


Her Red Cloak

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale), Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Adult Red Riding Hood, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Blue Eyed Wolves, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Walks In The Woods, Wolves, on the way to grandmother's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Through the woods to Grandma's House...
Relationships: Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 110





	1. Foggy Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Another long overdue gift.

The rain had turned from a heavy downpour into a light drizzle and along with the light rain came the fog, heavy and thick enough to obscure the forest beyond the window. 

Marianne looked out the window with a slight frown creasing her brow and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, a small bit of warmth against the chill of the rain. She rubbed her lips together with worry. 

“Don’t you think you should wait until tomorrow?” Dawn, Marianne’s little sister, asked in a small voice from where she sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. The roaring fire made her short blonde hair turn an orange hue in the light of the flames. She was reclined on the floor, her dark orange dress spread out to cover her legs, hiding the soft leather boots she wore. She sat near their father who reclined in a large wingback chair covered in a rich burgundy velvet, with several thick blankets covering his legs. Their unusual white coated Irish Wolfhound, Imp, lay at their father’s feet, his large head resting in Dawn’s lap while she stroked his ears. 

Dawn added more softly. “What about the stories…” 

Marianne thought for a moment about her sister’s request, but shook her head. 

“No, I need to go see her, make sure she’s all right,” Marianne muttered. “I just wish she would move into the house with us instead of insisting on living out in that little cottage all alone.” Her eyes wandered back to the window and the thick fog. “Besides, stories are just that: stories. And that milkmaid Abigail is notorious for telling tales.” 

Dawn didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. 

Marianne’s father leaned over to look around the side of the chair smiling, his pipe in his hand. His still mostly blonde hair was an eccentric mess. “You’re grandmother is as stubborn as you are and she likes her independence. She was afraid if she moved in with us that would be the moment she really would be old.” Her father chuckled. “I suppose she’s right, I feel a little ancient myself.” 

Dawn wrinkled her nose at her father. “You are not old Daddy, not at all.” 

He smiled and leaned forward to rustle his youngest daughter’s hair. That was when they heard the sound of laughter. All three of them turned toward the doorway as Sunny, a short, dark-skinned man dressed in dark red overalls and a white cotton tunic, came rushing into the room with a little girl wearing a pink cotton dress with warm, white stockings, little white leather boots and a mop of wild blonde hair on his shoulders waving around a wooden sword. 

“Go Daddy!! Go!!” 

Sunny made a whinnying sound like a horse before he called out. “Watch out everyone!! The warrior princess and her valiant steed are coming through!” 

The little girl on his shoulders squealed with delight as Sunny ran her around the room. 

The little girl yelled. “Grampie!! Look at me!!” 

Dagda laughed, pulling his pipe from his mouth. “Look at my little Princess Summer!” 

Summer squealed and laughed. “I’m going to kill the big bad wolf that lives in the woods!!” 

She swung her sword around happily as Sunny collapsed onto the floor next to Imp who lifted his massive head to look at the newcomers, then laid back down again. 

Summer toppled off of her father’s shoulders with a laugh then hopped to her feet next to her mother. “See my sword Mommy! Daddy just finished it!” 

Dawn laughed, taking the offered sword to inspect it. “Well you’re Daddy is the best woodworker in town sweetheart.” 

Summer giggled and ran over to Marianne as Sunny pushed himself up on his elbow and grinning as he kissed his wife. 

“Auntie Mari!! Are you going to visit Great Grammie Aura? Can I come?! Please!!” She hopped up and down with her sword at Marianne’s feet. “I can fight the wolves now. See!” 

Marianne laughed, reaching down to pick up the little girl. She settled Summer on her hip with a smile. 

“Now you know I can’t take you right now. You can only go see Great Grammie Aura in the daylight, not now with the weather like this and the wolves on the prowl,” Marianne said softly, reaching over to lightly tap the little girl on her slightly upturned nose. 

“But I’m a great warrior like you!” Summer pouted. 

“I know you are sweetie, but sometimes great warriors have to know when they are not ready for a battle, but I promise you will be soon. Besides, you need to stay here and protect your parents and your Grandfather.” Marianne smiled and hugged Summer tightly. 

Summer pouted only a little and hugged her aunt back. “I love you Auntie Mari.” 

Marianne smiled. “I love you too. Now…” She put Summer down on her feet. “Go slay your Grandfather, he looks entirely too comfortable.” 

Summer squealed and charged. “I’m gonna get you Grampie!!” 

Dagda laughed. “Nooo!!” He scooped the little girl up onto his lap when she was close enough and started to tickle her. 

Dawn got to her feet as Marianne started to leave the room and followed her big sister into the kitchen with its exposed stone walls. Dried herbs hung from the exposed rafters and a small fire in the kitchen’s fireplace burned, making the kitchen warm. Pots and pans hung from the rafter and along the walls were cabinets filled with all manner of cooking needs. In the middle of the room was a long wooden table where a large upright basket sat, the lid open. The basket was filled with jars of jam, fresh baked bread, salted meats, little bundles of cloth filled with nuts and dried fruits, and jars of soup, along with several fresh baked tarts. 

Marianne walked over to the basket, removed her shawl, and draped the fabric across the back of one of the chairs to reveal the soft leather pants she wore, the knee high weathered leather boots with the long, thick cotton tunic dyed a dark purple with a thick leather armored vest that she wore over the tunic. She adjusted the shawl on the back of the chair before she started to secure the basket. 

Dawn pulled out a chair and slipped into it with a sigh. “I really wish you would consider waiting.” 

Marianne smiled softly. “I know, but someone needs to check on her, especially after all the reports in the village of a beast in the forest, a great wolf that walks on two legs. What if the stories are true? She could be in danger…” Marianne frowned. “For all we know, it might already be too late.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, I need to go now rather than later.” 

Dawn nodded. “But, you know Grammie Aura is a witch, Marianne. She can take care of herself.” 

“Yes, I know, but…” Marianne stopped, adjusting the items in the basket and turned to look at her sister. “I just keep having this feeling…” She pressed her fist to her stomach. “...in my gut that I need to be out there, I need to go see her and soon.” Her brown eyes turned dark. “...I feel like something bad is going to happen if I don’t go now.” 

Dawn nodded. “Well, far be it for me to argue with your gut.” 

Marianne gave her sister a sour look, which only made Dawn laugh. “At least make sure you wear your lucky red cloak when you leave.” Dawn stood up and walked over to the rack that rested against the stone wall where several bottles of homemade wine secured in dark green bottles with waxed sealed corks rested. Dawn picked out two bottles of the wine and carried them over to the basket. 

“Go get your cloak and sword--I’ll finish with this and have it ready to go,” Dawn said softly. 

Marianne smiled and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

“You can thank me by coming back safely...” Dawn said with steel in her voice. “...and whole.” 

“I promise,” Marianne said before she left the warmth and comfort of the kitchen heading out into the hall and up the tower steps to her room. 

* 

Once in her room Marianne lit the candle that rested in an iron holder by her bed, she hurriedly went for her sword that rested on iron hooks on her wall. She grabbed the leather sheath where it lay propped up in the corner of her room. She held her sword for a long moment. She had only used her weapon for tournaments during the summer holidays, but never in real fight. She wondered if she had it in her to kill if the need arose. Frowning, Marianne sheathed the weapon and attached the sheath to her belt. Now that she had made up her mind to go, she was in a hurry to leave, her heart beating quickly with excitement. Truth be told, she looked forward to the dangers of the wood, to the challenge. Being in danger made her feel alive. 

She hurried to her wardrobe, pulling open the large wooden doors. The sweet smell of cedar filled her nostrils as she reached in and pulled out her red cloak. 

The cloak was made from wool and cotton, dyed and embroidered with fanciful gold vines and flowering plants, along with tiny fairies dancing along the trim. Her mother had made the cloak for Marianne, holding it for Marianne until her eighteenth birthday, but when her mother had passed when she was ten, Dagda had given the cloak to his daughter to comfort her. Dawn had a similar cloak, dyed green and embroidered with silver. 

Marianne had used the cloak as a blanket until she was big enough to wear it. She dropped the cloak around her shoulders, taking the pin--a highly ornate gold clasp carven with intricate knotwork--and secured her cloak in place. 

Now she was ready. 

* 

Dawn, Sunny, their father, and little Summer--who sat on her grandfather’s hip--all stood in the doorway as Marianne stood on the cobblestone path that led from their modest home. The fog was still as thick as ever, though the rain had turned to mist. She adjusted the basket on her back. Once she was satisfied with its placement, she looked back at them with a smile. 

“I’ll be back before you even miss me,” Marianne said. 

“Remind Aura that her room is waiting for her,” Dagda said with a slight frown. 

“Tell Great Grammie I miss her!” Summer added. “And that I have a sword now!” 

Marianne laughed. “I will.” 

Dawn hurried over to her sister and hugged her awkwardly, the basket on Marianne’s back making it impossible to hug her properly. “Just be careful.” 

“I will,” Marianne promised, kissing the top of her sister’s head. 

Sunny called out. “Turn back if you have to…” 

Marianne nodded as Dawn walked back to her husband. 

“Don’t worry--I’ll be back.” Marianne smiled. “I always come back don’t I?” 

Summer grinned. “My Auntie’s the bravest warrior ever!! She’ll kill the wolves and slay the monsters!!” 

Dawn groaned. “Summer, don’t say kill or slay.” 

“Why not?” Summer frowned, her chubby cheeks becoming slightly chubbier with her pout. “That’s what you do to wolves and monsters, Daddy said so.” 

Sunny chuckled under his wife’s harsh stare. “Sorry sweetheart.” 

Dagda laughed, turning with his granddaughter to walk back inside. “Want me to tell you the story about when I slew a troll?” 

“Yes yes!” came Summer’s excited voice. 

Marianne smiled watching her family slip back inside their home, though Dawn stopped in the doorway and waved. Marianne gave her sister one final wave before she turned and headed along the path and out into the fog. 

* 

The air felt heavy, filled with shadows and a looming threat. The silence felt like a blanket, smothering all but the occasionally sound of a drop of precipitation sliding off a leaf or the snap of a twig under the hoof of a deer, but there was no bird sound, so songs of fairies, no whispers of nymphs...They all remained quiet while death stalked the wood. 

Bog moved carefully through the dark wood. He wore only dark leather pants and sturdy leather boots, preferring not to be any further confined by a shirt. He only wore the pants for modesty, though most of his kind preferred to wear only a loincloth to allow more freedom of movement, but Bog knew he was strange. He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he stopped, going down on all fours, his fingertips pressing into the soft, damp ground, and sniffed the air just above a set of tracks. He could tell by the scent they belonged to the hunter, that death was in the wood. The man was a murderer, the woodsman with his sharpened axe. Bog was sure by the scent that this one was the son of the murderer that had killed Bog’s father and maimed his mother. Bog remembered that day vividly in shades of red and pain, that woodsman, along with the others with him, had killed several of Bog’s kind, his family, friends, taking their heads as trophies...Bog had only been a child… 

He unconsciously reached up and touched the scars that cut through his bottom lip and into his chin as the horrible memory flashed through his mind. 

His people were safe now, his mother was safe, hidden deeper into the wood, the parts of the dark forest that not even the woodsmen would go, but Bog had been unable to remain hidden, to let those men go unpunished. He burned for revenge, for these monsters to pay for the pain they had caused Bog’s people because of their prejudice and their hatred. 

This woodsman was not the one who had killed Bog’s father, but that didn’t matter, Bog knew for a fact that this man was like his father, a murderer just the same. 

He had seen the young woodsman kill innocent deer, baby bears, fairies, and fey foxes with his axe, delighting in the death and blood that he dealt out with his axe. The man was bloodthirsty and vicious. Bog had no doubt that the son would kill his kind and Bog found that he felt no remorse for wanting to spend his revenge on the son instead of the father. Both were killers, murderers... Bog stood up slowly to his full, impressive height. Unlike others of his kind, Bog was not built so heavily. He was broad through the shoulders, well-muscled, but slender, built for speed more than simple brute strength, though that didn’t mean Bog wasn’t immensely strong; he could crush a man’s skull between his hands if given the chance and proven his strength to his people many times over. 

Bog rolled his broad shoulders and flexed his long fingers with the thick, knotted knuckles and long dangerous claws. The black hair on Bog’s head was short, showing off the sharp point of his ears. There was more dark hair along his jaw, sprinkled with a little white in a short shadow of hair while more dark hair covered his arms up to his shoulders. His chest had dark curls of hair that narrowed to a point, but a line of dark hair ran down in a line from his chest, over his belly and disappearing under the band of his pants. 

Snarling, he bared his long canines and Bog sniffed the air. He went still as he detected another scent on the air, new, foreign...no...no, he realized, shaking the anger from his head. Not new, not foreign, he knew that scent. It was a scent that made his heart skip a beat, and a smile pulled at his lips. 

The scent was a mix of vanilla and primroses and it belonged to her, the one in the red cloak. 

* 

Bog has seen the beautiful woman in the red cloak a few times. She traveled the forest once, maybe twice a month, carrying a basket on her back from which he could smell salted meat, fruits, nuts… 

He had followed her from a distance once or twice. She visited the witch in the woods, the woman in the cottage at the heart of the wood. 

The witch was one of the few human’s who had earned Bog’s trust. She had been the one to save his mother’s life when the woodsman took her leg. The witch had been the one to give them shelter, to warn them when she could. She provided medicine for his people, hope, love, lessons, and most importantly, acceptance. 

He considered the witch Aura to be one of his family, like an aunt, and he would protect her with his life. 

Bog had been surprised to see the red-cloaked woman enter the witch’s home. He had listened at the windows, moving as silently as a shadow, to make sure the witch wasn’t in danger. He had heard the melodic voice of the red-cloaked woman, heard her talk, laugh, sing, and even curse. He quickly learned that she was the witch’s granddaughter. 

Her voice matched her face, beautiful beyond anything he had ever experienced. As Bog listened to her speak, he had learned that the red-cloaked woman was smart, witty, sarcastic, and sweet. She talked about swords and fighting, about her father, her sister, her niece named Summer and her brother-in-law. From his eavesdropping, Bog knew that she loved and adored her family, that she was loyal, and broken hearted. He learned so much about her from listening at the windows that he felt as if he knew her. And, he had begun to develop feelings for the woman, the beautiful red-cloaked human woman. 

He had wanted to approach the woman in the red cloak, to speak to her, to gaze into her eyes and see her smile… 

But, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was scared. She was both human and simply the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Bog was sure he was halfway in love with her and because of that, he held himself back. What if meeting her ruined all that, ruined everything he believed about her, and he saw she had a black heart like the woodsman? What if she saw him and wanted him dead? 

What if she was nothing like he thought she was? What if he scared her? 

What if he had misplaced his heart into her hands only to have her crush it? 

He was scared, fingered the amber necklace he wore around his neck; it had belonged to his father and he wore it always. When he was scared, he played with the large hunk of amber, drawing comfort from it. 

Sometimes illusions were better and thinking the beautiful red-cloaked woman was perfect, being in love with her from afar, was much better than learning the truth and having his heart shattered. Regardless of his fear and his feelings, the woman in her red cloak was here in the dark woods and that scared him more, for the murderer was out in the woods as well. If the woodsman found her, who knew what could happen? 

Bog growled low and deep in his chest. 

If she was here in this fog with the woodsmen on the loose, then Bog needed to protect her. 

He moved slightly, sniffing the air for her scent. 

Once he was more sure of her direction he took off at a run, his body cutting through the foggy forest like a dark shadow. 

* 

Roland Huntsman grinned, his ax resting jauntily on his shoulder as he walked boldly through the foggy woods, wearing his best new outfit; a pair of snug pants made of fine linen, leather boots, and a cotton silk shirt the same shade of green as his amazing eyes. The ladies in town had been impressed--as well they should be, he thought with a smug grin at himself. He was an attractive man. Roland’s grin turned into a full smile as he sashayed his hips a bit. Though he was out here alone, he knew how handsome he was with his chiseled features, gorgeous blonde hair, and fantastic physique. He was the catch of the town and could have any woman he wanted. 

He chuckled, pleased with himself as he walked through the woods, but there was only one woman he wanted and that was Marianne Summerfield, because she was the most beautiful woman in town--even if she was a bit rough around the edges. He didn’t like that she was good with a sword. No woman should know how to use a sword, he knew that was a universal law. Women should be happy to wait on their man, especially if their man was Roland Huntsman! 

Maybe after he got her to marry him, she would toss that sword and start wearing dresses like a proper woman. He grinned at the image of Marianne in a dress with her breasts pushed up, batting her eyes and cooing. “Yes Roland, whatever you want my dear husband Roland…” 

Roland chuckled as he moved through the wood. He was hunting wolf-men, supposedly one of the plump little milkmaids had seen one at the edges of the forest--probably just a wolf seen unclearly at a distance, but it didn’t matter to Roland. Kill a few wolves, maybe a dog or some big, ugly man who he could claim was a mad man. Either way, he would kill something, bring back a hide or a head, and be lauded by the townspeople as a hero. They would give him free food and drink, maybe get one or two of the girls in his bed... 

Roland grinned in anticipation. 

Roland’s father had told stories of wolf-men, men who walked on two legs, but had the characteristics of wolves--unnatural things. His father always told the story of running into a group of these wolf-people while he and some of his men had been cutting trees for lumber deep in the dark forest. The group of woodsmen had chased them, killing one or two and maiming a few others, but ultimately the beasts had escaped deep into the forest. They had sent parties into the forest to find and eradicate them, but the wolf-people had disappeared. Roland wasn’t sure if the stories were real or not, but he remembered the day that his father had come home covered in blood with the other woodmen’s carrying heads. 

Since then Roland had always dreamed of being the one who found the fabled wolf-people and being the one to slaughter them all. 

Maybe this wolf-man that the milkmaid had claimed to see was really one of them, maybe this was his chance to become the hero he knew he was! He would find and destroy them all! Unless he ran into that witch who lived out here in the woods. That bitch had chased him out on more than one occasion. He would love to kill her, burn her cottage down, but he knew he couldn’t...yet. He didn’t care that she was related to Marianne--a witch was unnatural and he hated anything unnatural, like a woman with a sword. 

But there would come a day when he would get what he wanted. Roland always got what he wanted. He would get Marianne, burn the witch, and be applauded as the hero he knew he was... 

* 

Marianne pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head as she headed into the woods. The fog was so thick that she couldn’t see more than a few paces in front of her and the silence soon became a little unnerving. She had traveled in the fog through the dark forest before, but the stories of a wolf-man made her feel a little nervous, though she would never have admitted that to her sister. 

Adjusting the basket on her back, Marianne pushed the thought of wolf-men out of her head and instead just focused on following what she could see of the path that led to Grammie Aura’s cottage in the woods. 

* 

It only took him a few minutes to track her, but Bog was moving so quickly, his focus on Marianne’s scent, on finding her and following her to protect her from the evil in the woods, that Bog almost stumbled out onto the path that she traveled on before he stopped himself, dropping into a crouch among the trees, brush, and fog. 

He went still, hoping he hadn’t made too much noise when he tripped and dropped into a crouch. 

* 

Marianne heard the sound of something big among the trees. She spun around, her hand on the leather-wrapped hilt of her sword and stared into the fog in the direction of the sound. She could see the shadowy shapes of trees, the illusion that things were moving in the fog, but whatever had made that sound had now stopped. 

She licked her lips and strained her eyes and ears. Her hand on her hilt became sweaty as she stared into the fog, but nothing else moved or made a sound. 

Worrying at her upper lip Marianne debated whether she should call out or not. She would hate to pull her sword only to find out she was threatening a simple fellow traveler in the woods. People sought out her Grammie’s help when the local physician was of no use and she knew that sometimes woodsmen were out there. There were few enough travelers in the dark forest that she had never run into anyone on her numerous travels to her Grammie’s house, but there was always the possibility...or it could be thieves, she thought with a scowl. Though thieves didn’t usually use to the woods because of the stories. Or it could be a monster. That was that possibility too… 

She rubbed her lips together, loosening her sword in its scabbard before she hissed. “Who’s out there?” 

* 

Bog stiffened, mentally chidding himself for being a fool. He had just been in such a hurry to protect her from that man… 

Damn it...damn it...damn it… 

* 

Marianne felt a shift in the air. There was definitely someone out there. She narrowed her eyes in a mix of annoyance and anger. “I know you’re there--if you aren’t planning on attacking me, then you better come out where I can see you or I must assume you mean me harm…” Marianne drew her sword, the weapon making a soft, but unmistakable sound as the metal came free of the leather. 

* 

Bog covered his face with his hands, dragging them slowly down his face in annoyance. Spirits of the moon, he was an idiot. He frowned, looking at her from between his fingers, rubbing his tongue over one of his fangs. He was pretty sure he could run back into the woods fast enough that she couldn’t stick him with the sword if she decided to attack him. He didn’t want to hurt her; it would kill him if he accidently hurt her, which meant running might be his best option… 

As he watched her, Bog could see her becoming more and more agitated. She turned one way, then the next with her sword… 

“I’ll come out,” Bog called out, keeping his voice level. 

Marianne stiffened when she heard the voice, male, deep, but not inhumanly so. She turned toward the voice or at least where she thought the voice might be coming from in the dense fog. 

“Come out slowly. I know how to use a sword and I’m not afraid to draw blood,” she warned in a steady voice. 

Bog grinned. The command in her voice sent a shiver up his spine, her command was...erotic. Bog quickly brushed those thoughts away as he forced himself not to smile. She might not appreciate his smiling at her, and his fangs might look intimidating. Bog stood up slowly, his hands up (there was nothing he could do about his claws), and began to walk over to her, making sure that each step he took, broke a branch or crushed leaves so that she would know exactly where he was in the fog. He wanted to make sure that he made enough noise so that she wouldn’t be startled and would know from which direction he was coming from--and hopefully would not stab him in the gut. 

* 

Marianne held her weapon at the ready. The basket on her back would limit her mobility, but she was still good enough with her sword that the additional weight on her back shouldn't stop her from hurting someone bad enough that they would think twice about messing with her… 

A tall, dark shadow began to move toward her through the fog and thick trees. Marianne tightened her grip on her weapon, her eyes wide. Whoever they were, they were taller than any man she had ever seen and as the shadow became more distinct, she saw that the shadow also had broad shoulders, but then the fog peeled away to reveal a man like no man she had ever seen before. He was tall, well over six and a half feet tall, slender, but in that way of a dangerously quick predator. Her eyes traveled down his form, taking in the details of him. He was shirtless, but he wore a necklace made from some dark material that held a large amber stone. His torso showed off the fine, lean muscles of his body, his hair was dark, black and shiny, blacker than midnight. Marianne saw hair scattered thickly across his broad chest that looked closer to fur than hair, and a line of fur/hair that trailed down his belly and disappeared under the band of the tight pants he wore. She felt her cheeks burn as her eyes brushed over his hips and groin and down his long, slender legs. 

Marianne swallowed hard. 

She had never seen a more impressive man in her entire life. 

Her eyes traveled back up to his face where she gazed at his dark hair and a fine...fur...covering his chin and cheeks, looking much like a man who had simply not shaven, but she could just tell the hair along his jaw was thicker than simple morning bristles. The same hair/fur brushed along his shoulders and his forearms. The man, if that was what he was, had extremely pointed ears, and long, dangerous looking claws at the ends of his fingers. But as he gazed back at her, Marianne found herself staring into a pair of eyes so blue that she was sure they didn’t exist anywhere in nature except in the eyes of this man. 

They were the most beautiful eyes she had even seen in a man, who caused a very physical reaction in her, a reaction that she could only identify as lust. 

She was at a loss for words, holding her sword on him and unable to move or speak while her heart pounded in her chest and in her groin and her breasts. She had never experienced an instant attraction before, but his half-dressed man sparked something primal in her. 

It was both frightening and exhilarating, which made her angry. 

“Who are you and what are you?” she snarled to cover up her confusing reaction to this stranger. 

* 

Bog’s heart was beating double time as he walked toward her, both with excitement and fear. 

This close to Marianne, the scent of her was intoxicating, filling his nostrils. Her scent rushed through his blood and the attraction that he held for her suddenly intensified into something carnal. 

As he stepped closer to her, he could see her face, really see her for the first time, see her face not from a distance, but really see her. His eyes widened slightly as he saw she was more beautiful in person that he had ever thought possible. 

He had gazed at her though windows, through trees, from over a long distance or through the underbrush of the forest, but the opportunity to see her up close had always escaped him. She was even more beautiful than he had realized. Her eyes were large, a warm shade of honey brown that he knew he could become lost in, eyes that could give comfort as well as excitement. Briefly, Bog wondered if her eyes would glow with pleasure. Her nose was small and her lips were sweet, like rosebuds about to bloom. Her body was tight, compact, the body of a fighter while at the same time remaining soft and feminine. 

His attraction to her increased tenfold. 

Marianne growled. “Tell me who you are, what you are, and why you are following me.” 

Bog took a deep breath, keeping his clawed hands up where she could see that he meant her no harm. “My name is Bog and...I’m a Vargr. Umm...I was following you because you are traveling to see the witch, your grandmother. I wanted to see you safe to her cottage because there is a murderer in the woods.” Bog frowned. “And to make sure Aura is safe as well.” 

Marianne frowned, looking confused.. “Wait--you know about my grandmother?” 

Bog nodded, smiling just a little, but it was enough for Marianne to see his fangs. “Yes, she is a friend to my people. She saved my mother’s life when the woodsmen attacked us.” He straightened his spine, which now made Marianne realize she had underestimated his height. “I’ve known her since I was a boy.” 

For a moment Marianne just stared at him, but she found herself believing him. Her grandmother had told her stories of the Vargr, good stories, about these mythical creatures being loyal, good people hunted almost to extinction by humans. When she was a girl, Marianne used to dream about meeting one of them, a handsome young fey wolf-man who would sweep her off her feet... 

But those were just fanciful stories. But as she looked at Bog, a story made flesh... 

Marianne had thought the stories seemed too real, almost like her grandmother had seen these creatures, knew these creatures, but... 

This was a lot to take in, but her gut (at least she hoped it was her gut and not her groin) told her this man was telling her the truth. Slowly, she resheathed her sword while the man lowered his clawed hands. 

“You know my Grammie Aura?” she asked again, her voice soft. 

Bog nodded then smiled, his fangs showing, but somehow she wasn’t scared. 

“Yes, she makes the best Lese Fryes and chicken pies I’ve ever tasted.” Bog smiled fully at her and Marianne felt a warm tickle in her gut. His fangs were bigger than she had first realized, deadly, sharp. That ripple in her gut intensified, shooting like fire to her groin as she replied. “She does, doesn’t she?” 

Bog chuckled and nodded, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. The movement showed off the muscles of his torso and arms in a way that made that little flame in her groin turn into a blazing fire. “And cookies.” He laid his clawed hands against his flat stomach. “She’s always trying to put weight on me.” 

Marianne laughed, her eyes darting to his flat stomach. She couldn't help the laugh that erupted from her lips. (Bog shifted his hips at the sound, like a caress along his nerves hoping he could disguise the attraction she evoked in him). “You really do know her, don’t you?” 

Bog smiled again, a shy smile that was somehow more attractive with the fangs. “I do.” 

Marianne looked down at her boots as an awkward silence dropped down around them. This was so strange she thought… 

“Will you walk with me then?” she asked. “You can tell me about this danger...” Marianne smiled at him and Bog nodded eagerly. She was sure if he had a tail, it would be wagging. 

* 

“So you and your people live deep in the dark forest?” Marianne asked. “For how long?” 

Bog nodded. “We were nomadic, but that was before my time. Your Grandmother has helped us, keeping us hidden and helping us when we were ill, helping with the babies. She is teaching several of us to mix herbs like she does. And she is teaching me how to cook.” Bog grinned proudly. “She’s the one that gave us a home. In exchange we protect her, hunt for her.” 

Marianne mused out loud. “That’s why she never wants to move home with me. You and you’re people keep her safe and she feels responsible for you…” 

Bog frowned. “We never wanted to keep her from her family. I was always under the impression that she didn’t have any family. I mean, that was until I saw you, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck as they walked. Marianne noticed that he hunched, as if he were trying to reduce his height. She didn’t think he was doing it for her benefit, but that the stance was a habit, which made her wonder if he was considered tall even among his own people. 

“So, do you fully change into a wolf?” she asked. 

Bog shook his head. “Nope, this is it.” He spun around, causing her to laugh, but she also noticed the thin line of fur that ran from the back of his hairline and down his spine to disappear into his pants. The heat she felt spiked for a moment and she quickly tried not to think around what his fur felt like… 

Bog glanced at her sword. “Are you a warrior?” 

Marianne laughed and Bog found that her laugh was now his favorite sound in all the world. 

“No, I’m not a warrior. I trained, but mostly I’ve fought pretend fights at the summer tournaments and a few times during the fall fairs, but I’ve never been in a real fight, not in which my life was on the line.” She rubbed her lips together before she asked. “Have you?” 

Bog nodded. “Yes.” 

“Have you taken a life? I mean, like a person’s life?” Her voice was quiet when she asked and Bog nodded mutely. 

Marianne frowned then whispered. “You don’t need to talk about it. I shouldn’t have pried.” 

Bog gave her a slight smile, reaching up to finger the amber necklace he wore. “Thank you. I try not to kill unless it's for food, but sometimes…” 

He bowed his head and Marianne felt her heart go out to him. “Sometimes to protect the ones you love…” 

Marianne reached out and laid her hand against his arm, noticed his skin was unusually warm. He twitched only slightly when she touched him, but he didn’t pull away. They stopped walking, looking at one another, and something in the air tightened between them. 

She decided to change the subject. She removed her hand from his arm, but not before she had stroked her hand down his arm feeling the play of muscle under his skin. “How much longer to my grandmother’s house do you think?” she asked, pulling her hand away. 

Bog put his head up and sniffed the air. He smiled at Marianne. He could only detect a faint scent of the woodsman. Perhaps the murderer had left the woods, but the stronger scent he caught on the wind was that of fresh baked bread and sugar. “Not far,” he said. “I can smell that she is baking.” 

Marianne laughed as she started to walk again. “How is it that she is always baking on the days I come for a visit?” 

Bog shrugged his massive shoulders. “Well, she is a witch after all.” 

Marianne laughed again and Bog echoed her laughter. 

* 

They walked for another quarter hour before Marianne picked up on the delicious scent of baking bread, just as Bog had said. The fog remained thick, but before long she could make out her grandmother’s cottage. 

Her grandmother’s cottage had a peaked roof covered in green moss with trim painted a dark blue, while the rest of the cottage was the color of rich soil. There was one large window with amber tinted glass and the door was carved from wood and had images of dancing fey creatures on it, made by her grandfather long ago. While the trail through the forest was a simple dirt path, beginning at the gate that surrounded her grandmother’s home there was a cobblestone path that cut through the garden of wildflowers and herbs that grew around her grandmother’s cottage with no rhyme nor reason. 

Bog opened the gate for Marianne and the two of them headed along the path only to have the door to the cottage thrown open before they arrived on the small porch. 

“There you are!!” Grandmother Aura stood in the doorway, her white hair braided over her shoulder, the blue dress she wore dragging the floor. She had been a beautiful woman when she was younger and she was still stunning in her senior years. She waved her arm at them smiling brightly, and her blue eyes twinkling. 

“Marianne! Bog!!” She called. “Come in! Come in! I just pulled the bread out and the cookies will be done any moment! I have fresh butter and honey!” She grinned at the two of them before turning around and heading back into her cottage. 

Bog and Marianne shared an amused look, but quickly followed the witch into her cottage. 

* 

Wiping his bloody hands on his pants Roland finished skinning the wolf. It was a large grey with thick fur that would make an attractive collar for a cloak...for him. He smirked, thinking about how much the women would love the cloak on him. He might even be able to finally land the mayor’s daughter in his bed! 

He grinned as he stood up from skinning the animal when he saw movement in the trees. Roland narrowed his eyes...there! He saw eyes, green eyes, the shade of summer leaves… 

“Who is it?! I see you!” Roland snarled, grabbing up his bloody axe just as a small figure darted away. Roland saw pointed ears, fur, and the flash of claws. 

For a moment disbelief made him unable to move. It was one of those creatures! A wolf-man, though this one had looked like a girl, but still… 

Roland grinned, grabbing up his bloody axe and giving chase, it did matter that it was small or female. It was one of the unnatural creatures and it’s head would give him all the gold, praise, and women he could want.


	2. Grandma's house

The inside of Grammie Aura’s cottage was one of Marianne’s favorite places. Not only did the interior always smell like freshly baked bread and cookies, but there was also a sweet tang of sage and other spices that drifted in the air. She also liked the holiness of Grammy Aura’s cottage with it’s rough wood furniture, tapestries, and colorful pillows that littered almot every surface. The floor was covered with handwoven, colorful rugs, and more pillows. 

Aura led them both into her kitchen where the smell of fresh baked bread and sugar nearly overpowering their senses. On the wooden table that dominated the center of the kitchen sat a steaming loaf of fresh, unsliced bread and a platter on which sat shortbread cookies sprinkled with powdered sugar. A large square of butter rested on another plate next to a couple of jars, one filled with golden honey while the other looked to contain strawberry jam. 

Bog made a soft rumbling noise in his chest that caused Marianne to glance over at him in surprise. He felt her eyes on him and looked over at her, blushing. 

“I haven’t eaten in a while,” he murmured as explanation. 

“Do either of you want tea? Or milk? I have some fresh milk, or I also have a real treat--some blueberry wine!” Aura grinned hurrying over to her cabinets and pulling open the door from which she grabbed glasses and plates. Bog came over to help her, with Aura handing him plates without even looking with a familiarity that told Marianne more about their relationship than words. It was clear that Bog had been here before, enough that her Grammie was treating him like she would her or Dawn. 

While Bog was helping Marianne’s grandmother, Marianne pulled her basket off her back and began to unload the contents onto the table. 

Bog carried the dishes to the table where he sat them down in front of three of the chairs while Aura dropped into a crouch, searching in a cabinet before she came up with a dusty green bottle. 

“Here’s the wine! And I already have some water on the fireplace for tea.” 

Marianne went to take a chair, but her grandmother hurried over and moved her, forcing Marianne to take the seat right next to Bog. 

“Now…” Aura settled into her seat as she pulled the cork from the wine with her teeth. “What brings you both here? Oh! Look at all the goodies you brought!” Aura sat up, reaching over to grab one of the jars that Marianne had brought with her. 

“I was worried about you with this fog…” Marianne began, but her grandmother laughed. “Oh my dear, I’m fine, but I do appreciate the worry and the treats. And you Bog, what has you creeping around the forest?” She tilted her head as she spoke to him. 

Bog looked offended. “I don’t creep.” 

Aura laughed. “Of course you don’t dear.” 

“I was just hunting, but…” He frowned slightly and glanced over at Marianne before looking back at Aura. “I smelled the woodsman, then when he caught her scent…” He motioned at Marianne. “...I thought it best I keep an eye on her, since she is your granddaughter, after all.” 

“Well that’s very noble of you Bog,” Aura said with a very slight frown before she added. “The woodsman...what does that degenerate want in these woods? I thought when I warned him off…” 

Bog shook his head. “I knew he wouldn’t stay away. He likes to kill too much…” Bog’s words trailed into a growl. 

Marianne watched the expression on her grandmother’s face go from jovial to dark within seconds. 

“That bastard,” Aura added with a murmur. 

“Who is this woodsman?” Marianne asked, her voice a whisper for some unknown reason, as if saying the name would summon the man. 

Aura frowned glancing at Bog before she turned back to Marianne and said softly. “It’s Roland, sweetheart.” 

“WHAT?!” Marianne stood up causing the dishes on the table to shudder. 

Aura reached for Marianne’s hand and pulled her back down to her seat at the same time Bog jumped a foot in the air from Marianne’s sudden outburst, all his hair standing on end. He snarled deep in his chest while baring his fangs, his blue eyes flashing, his clawed hands held up ready to attack something. 

Marianne paled when she saw him. He looked both dangerous and...attractive. She swallowed, blushing as a bright flame burned across her cheeks toward the tips of her ears. 

Aura reached out for Bog, her hand moving carefully, hovering over his arm. When he didn’t move, she very lightly laid her hand against his arm. She stroked his arm in a soothing gesture that reminded Marianne of calming a frightened dog. 

“Bog, it’s fine dear, just take your seat. Have some blueberry wine.” 

Bog’s eyes were still flashing that unique blue, but he settled back down into his chair. Aura poured wine into the glasses for all of them. She motioned with her head after she had poured the dark blue-purple liquid. 

“Everyone take a drink.” 

Marianne picked up her glass just as Bog did, both of them taking a sip. The sweetness of the wine that was somehow chilled (though Marianne had not seen her grandmother do anything that would cause the wine to be chilled) immediately calmed her. Bog seemed to calm down as well, the hair all over him settled back down and his growling settled into a steady, normal breathing. 

Marianne took a deep breath. “This woodsman is Roland Huntsman?” 

Aura nodded. “His father is the one that hurt Bog and his family, hunted Bog’s kind and others. Roland is just as bloodthirsty as his father…” 

Bog’s brow creased as he looked between the two women, but it was Marianne who spoke. 

“Roland is a man from the village who has been after me to marry him since we were young.” Marianne frowned and rubbed her eyes before she let out a sigh and continued. “I knew he was an ass, but I never figured he was violent. Not...really. I mean, I knew he hunted...” 

Aura sucked on her bottom lip for a moment before she said softly. “He doesn’t just hunt, he destroys, murders...He revels in the violence.” Aura’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s like his father now, but worse. You only know the facade he keeps up in the village, or the fake charm he uses around you. That man is a true monster.” 

Bog nodded, his expression serious. “He has no heart, no spirit. He doesn’t hunt for what he needs, but for power, domination.” 

Marianne rubbed her fingers across her lips trying to reconcile the man she knew from the man they were describing. She found that it wasn’t hard to believe that Roland Huntsman was a monster. She felt a cold trickle in her stomach. 

“So what can we do about him?” she asked, looking between her grandmother and Bog. 

Aura shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

Bog growled low and dangerous. “I know what I will do about him.” 

Aura reached out and patted his arm. “I know dear, but you are not a murderer. If you killed him in a fair fight that’s one thing, but to stalk him and take him down that way, that’s not you Bog. That’s like Roland,” she concluded gravely. 

Bog frowned and sighed. The tension that had been holding him up drained away and he slouched in his chair. “You’re right. I can’t be like him.” 

Aura reached out and rubbed his upper arm. “That’s what makes you better than someone like Roland.” 

“So what do we do?” Marianne asked. 

Aura shrugged. “There isn’t much we can do. I‘ve put a few spell bags out in the trees, spells of misdirection, spells that create blind spots, but they are few and far between because it's hard on me getting out there and putting them up in the branches. Besides, a few good rains or dewy mornings and the spell are made mute.” Aura picked up a knife and started to cut into the bread. “I can only put so many of them up at my age anyway. I can’t climb trees the way I used to. I have a lot of the spell bags...just can’t get them into the trees...but maybe…” She looked slyly between the two of them as she buttered slices of bread and set them on their plates. “If I had a couple of someones to help me hang them in the trees, a couple youngsters who could climb trees and had the energy to spread the spell bags out further...” 

Marianne smiled. “Of course I’ll help!” 

“And I will as well,” Bog added with a smile. “I’m quite good at climbing trees.” 

Aura grinned as she spooned out a plentiful scoop of jam. “Perfect, it’s settled then. After we eat a little, why don’t the two of you go walk my gardens while I brew up some fresh spell bags. We’ll get enough into the branches of the trees that Roland will never know if he’s coming or going!” 

Marianne glanced at Bog with a smile. 

Bog returned her smile shyly. 

* 

Roland stopped his stalking to drop into a crouch. 

There was a print, small...the she-wolf could be no more than twelve years of age judging by the print--provided such unnatural beasts aged as humans did. He grinned. She would be easy to track and kill. 

He stood up scanning the area, the fog making it difficult, but in moments he saw movement a dozen yards ahead of him. If he had been any other hunter, Roland doubted he would have noticed the movement. The girl moved quickly and quietly, trying to remain hidden by the trees and the shifting fog, but he saw her, saw her shadow dart among the trees. 

Grabbing his axe in a tighter grip, Roland continued his pursuit. 

* 

After eating, Aura shooed both Marianne and Bog outside, claiming she needed space and solitude to work. They were both shoved outside and into the wilderness of Marianne’s grandmother’s garden. The fog wasn’t as thick in her grandmother’s garden, but outside her fence the fog was just as thick as it had been when Marianne left to come out here. It looked odd, as if an invisible wall held back the fog...Marianne supposed an invisible wall did exist. Magic. She shook her head. 

It didn’t take long for Marianne to find the path that still existed in the garden, though barely visible. When she had been little, the path was much easier to find, but the flowers and vines danced at the edge of the path making Marianne wonder if her Grammie had used a spell to keep the plants from swallowing the path completely. 

Bog stopped on the stoop and sniffed the air. Marianne watched him, the way he extended his back, his nose in the air made Marianne uncomfortable because she couldn’t stop herself from staring at him. Her eyes followed the line of his throat down to his chest and along his stomach, her gaze skating like a caress over his skin. 

“Everything all right?” she asked to distract herself from her ogling him. 

Bog sniffed the air one more time before he nodded. “Yes. I don’t smell the woodsman nearby, although I do smell some pixies.” He looked around for a moment then pointed. “There.” 

Marianne turned to follow his arm, but as she stared into the woods she didn’t see anything. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. 

Bog looked momentarily insulted before he leaned close to her, his cheek practically touching hers as he pointed again. “They are right there. Try to focus on the movement of the leaves in the tree, and notice the leaves that don’t move with the wind.” 

Marianne gave a slight nod, biting her bottom lip as she focused on the leaves, but she was acutely away of Bog being so close to her that his breath rustled her hair. This close, he smelled delicious. There was a richness about the way his skin and hair smelled, a combination of spices she couldn’t place, but her body’s reaction was instant. She felt a pulse in her blood that made its way to her groin and through her breasts. Her breathing became slightly ragged. 

She glanced sideways and admired the way his ears tapered up to a point, noticed his hair had a natural shine to it, making the locks look rich and dark. His hair looked as if it would be soft to the touch, which made her think about running her fingers through his hair, her hands running down his back or over his chest and along his stomach, following the thin line of hair all the way down... 

She licked her lips, her eyes quickly glancing back up to his chest, then away. What in the world was wrong with her? 

Marianne’s desire--her need--to touch him felt overpowering, but she quickly balled her hands into fists to stop herself from reaching out. She had never felt so controlled by her urges than now, being around Bog. 

She had also never felt such an immediate lust for someone before. She would accuse him of using some sort of magic on her, but she was sure that he wasn’t doing anything at all except being himself. Maybe it was just her own desires and Bog’s own animal magnetism she was feeling. Or maybe she just found this mysterious man intriguing and erotic. 

Or maybe she had just lost her damn mind. 

She wanted to step away from him, but at the same time she wanted to step closer. Instead, she didn’t move at all. She kept looking for the pixies instead. 

After a few seconds of focusing on the leaves, she saw one of the leaves move in a peculiar way and then, like magic, the pixies seemed to appear. They were small, coming in a variety of shades of green, but now that she could see them she felt certain she couldn’t unsee them if she wanted. 

“Oh, I see them!” Marianne giggled with pleasure glancing sideways at Bog only to find Bog watching her. Their eyes met and the erotic attraction she felt spiked until she thought her hair might catch on fire with how much she wanted him in a purely sexual way. 

*. 

For Bog, Marianne’s scent washed away all others, filling his every sense; her beauty filled his eyes, her scent his nose, her presence excited feelings in him that he had thought himself immune to… 

Bog wasn’t only aware of her when he was still close to her. Her scent stayed with him, and had always stayed with him from the moment he picked up her scent at Aura’s the first time, but now, standing so close and nearly touching her, he felt nearly overwhelmed. Her rich scent of vanilla and flowers made him shift, becoming slightly uncomfortable as his body reacted to her, to the sweetness of her. He glanced sideways, wondering if her skin would taste as sweet as she smelled if he ran his tongue over her throat? What would her breasts feel like pressed against his chest, her skin under his hands, her breath, warm, brushing against his chest. He had never desired anyone before, never been in love, but Marianne woke urges in him, made him feel wild, lightheaded, and hot all at the same time. He would think he was sick, coming down with some disease, except he knew that he wasn’t... 

But Marianne had him thinking thoughts that he had never experienced before. It made him wonder if she was a witch like her grandmother, but with a smile, he found that he didn’t really care. He was attracted to her, liked her, and had been a little in love with her from the moment he saw her. Being close to her now only strengthened that desire. 

“Are you...mated?” Bog asked as he straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and immediately wished he hadn’t asked that question. If he could kick himself right now, he would, he thought as he looked away to hide his blush. 

Marianne was a little startled by the question, but she shook her head as Bog started to walk, forcing her to jog a few steps to catch up. 

“Ah, no. I never met anyone who…” She shook her head and asked. “You?” Mariane asked, falling into step beside him. “Are you...mated?” She giggled softly. “Sorry, we usually ask if you are attached instead of mated. Mated sounds a bit…” Her eyes widened. Mated sounded far too sexual. 

Her cheeks turned red. 

She glanced around looking for something to distract from this awkward conversation. Here and there, fluttering between the wild riot of wildflowers, she could see butterflies and the occasional tiny wings of a fairy. The garden held an atmosphere of calm peacefulness about it that Marianne remembered from when since she was little, Dawn holding hands with her and squealing as they chased after the butterflies and fairies alike. Those were her favorite memories. 

Bog had stopped among a thick grouping of pink, purple, and blue hyacinth. He inhaled deeply of the flowers, a grin on his face. Marianne watched him with a smile, that warmth she felt toward him increased seeing him smelling flowers. Most of the men in the village were too busy being strong and dour (one of the reasons she hadn’t found a “mate”), but watching Bog smell flowers, a smile on his face, and the hint of fangs… 

She found herself feeling something more than just lust. 

Bog glanced over at Marianne and shook his head. “To answer your question: no. I don’t have a mate.” He turned his attention back to the flowers, reaching out to stroke a purple petal delicately with one claw. 

“Why don’t you? Have a mate I mean...” he asked as he straightened up, holding out one of his long, clawed fingers out just as a tiny purple winged fairy flew slowly out of the hyacinths. The fairy hovered around in front of Bog for a moment. Its body looked to be made from the petals of the hyacinths, the fairy’s colors a deep purple mixed with lighter shades. 

Marianne watched with delight as the fairy moved closer to Bog, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his long, sharp nose before it dropped down onto his finger. The little creature was genderless, she noted. The petals that made up it’s body folded around it like a multilayerd dress. The little creature had large purple wings that matched the purple color of its body and as the wings moved lazily, Marianne caught the scene of hyacinths on the breeze around the little creature. 

The little fey swung its long legs, laughing happily; the sound was like tiny bells on the breeze. Bog smiled holding his hand steady for the little fairy who was swinging their legs with pleasure. 

Marianne stepped closer and the little fey smiled and waved at her. Marianne put her finger out to it and the little creature reached out and touched her finger. 

That was the moment two more similar creatures burst from the flowers, both very similar to the first one. One of the fairies was pink, the other green. They flew happily around Bog’s head, then Marianne’s before coming to rest on Marianne’s shoulders, one on either side. 

Marianne giggled looking side to side carefully. “I don’t remember my Grammie’s garden having so many fairies before.” 

Bog laughed at the fairy who sat on his finger, swinging its legs and clearly saying something in its tiny bell-like voice. 

Marianne felt her heart skip a beat when he looked at her with his unusual blue eyes glowing in the pale light. When he smiled at her, his face and voice were relaxed, his posture, slightly bent as he laughed at the fairy on his finger who had swung itself around to stand on its hands, clearly showing off for Bog. The fairies on Marianne’s shoulders laughed (she assumed that was what they were doing because the tinkling sound they made sounded like laughter.) 

Bog glanced over at her again and smiled, the hint of fangs making the heat between her legs burn with want. 

“Uh, I never met anyone I...got along with I guess. The men in town are a little boorish, brainless. Some of them are nice, but…” She shrugged. “...just not for me. Besides, not a lot of them understand my fondness for swords.” She giggled touching her blade. “What about you? Why aren’t you mated?” A small giggle escaped Marianne’s lips. The term mated still sounding funny to her ears. 

Bog watched the little purple fairy as it flipped itself into the air, zipping past Bog’s face where it whipped up some of his hairs. Its friends leapt off Marianne’s shoulders, the three of them dancing in the air for a moment before diving back into the flowers. 

Bog frowned once more, rubbing the back of his neck while his other hand absently reached up to caress the amber jewel he wore around his throat. “I’m…” He wrinkled his nose. “There were a lot of reasons. I’m ugly and…” 

“Wait, what? Ugly? Who told you that?” Marianne felt anger at the idea that anyone would find this startling, erotically handsome man ugly! 

“I’m not exactly like all of my people. I’m too tall for one--most of them aren’t as tall as me, so I tower over everyone...like a damn tree…” he muttered. “And...I like to wear pants and boots instead of a loincloth. Human customs...” 

Marianne’s eyes widened as the image of Bog in a loincloth came waltzing to the front of her mind. She had to give her head a little shake to get the image to fade enough that she could function. Though she promised herself to revisit that image later. 

“And...I’m just not…” He motioned at himself. “Many vargr males are more muscular than I am, more…” He struggled for a word then sighed. “I don’t know, they are just more.” He held his hands out as if that was all the explanation needed. 

Marianne didn’t say it out loud, but she was wondering how on earth they could be “more” than Bog. Clearly, whoever had made Bog feel he was inferior was afraid of him because she had never seen a more attractive, strong, ”more”...man in all her life. 

“Well, someone has been lying to you,” she said as they began to walk again. “Because you are perfect the way you are.” She blushed, but clearly the words needed to be said. 

Bog looked sideways at her, a blush dusting his cheeks, his voice a low purr in his chest. “Thank you Marianne.” 

She smiled. “No need to thank me.” 

Bog smiled in return and the two of them walked through the chaos of the garden. “The other reason I’m not mated is that my kind mate for life. You have to find someone that ignites the fires in you.” His voice was soft. “Someone you know will share the moon with you, will be with you through the long winters and bright days of summer.” Bog glanced over at her as he walked. “There is a story among my people that when you meet your mate, a forest fire will burn in your chest and the winds will connect you, soul to soul…” He shrugged and opened his mouth to say something else when he suddenly stopped, going so still that it was almost frightening to Marianne. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, narrowing his eyes. He wrinkled his nose, tilting his head in a way that reminded Marianne of a dog when they were listening to something intently. She kept quiet watching him as he turned, his head tilting one way, then the other. 

“Follow me,” he whispered and took off, sprinting into the wild tangle of flowers. Marianne watched him go, her breath taken away by watching how quickly and gracefully he moved. After a beat, she took off after him. 

* 

Marianne lost sight of Bog for a moment. She had seen him running ahead of her when suddenly his head dropped out of sight. 

“Bog?” She looked around, wondering how she could lose such a tall man in here when she heard his voice. “I’m here, just take ten steps forward.” 

Marianne turned toward his voice and did as he asked, coming through a tangle of honeysuckle into a small clearing only to see Bog sitting on the ground, his long legs straight out, laughing as six greyish orange fox kits jumped all over him, climbing over his legs and standing on their hind legs, paws pressed against his chest as they struggled to lick his face. Lying only a few feet away was the mother fox, her eyes closed, but her ears twitching, clearly alert. She opened her eyes once when Marianne entered the clearing, but then closed them again. 

Bog smiled up at Marianne. “It’s fine, their mother knows me.” 

Marianne looked amused as she sat down on the grass next to Bog. “She knows you?” 

The moment Marianne sat down cross-legged on the ground, the kits all turned to attacking her, hopping and yipping while trying to lick her hands, her face, all of her at once. She laughed and petted them as they jumped and crawled over her legs. 

Bog nodded. “Yes, I helped her a long time ago when she was caught in a hunter’s trap.” 

“Do you speak to animals?” Marianne asked, her voice soft with amazement, picking up one of the kits and rubbing her nose against it’s little snout while the kit cheerfully tried to nip her nose. “No. I mean, other...canines yes, but I can’t ah...talk to birds, for example. And it's not really talking exactly. We just, understand one another.” He shrugged shyly followed by a laugh as one of the kits bounced over to him. Bog held his clawed hand up over to the kit, which jumped up digging it’s teeth into the soft part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger. The little fox wrapped its paws around Bog’s wrist and growled playfully. Bog chuckled and wiggled his hand a little. The tiny fox growled again holding on tighter. 

Marianne laughed. “Doesn’t that hurt?” 

Bog shook his head. “No, his teeth are still too small.” 

Two more to the kits hurried over to attack Bog’s hand while one of them curled itself in Marianne’s lap, promptly going to sleep. Another one contented itself to chew on the side of Marianne’s pants leg at the knee, every once in a while a sharp little tooth breaking through to her skin. The last one was digging at the ground just under Marianne’s thigh. 

Marianne watched Bog laugh and play with the other three, growling playfully. He turned one of the kits on its back and gently shook the little fox as it bit at his fingers while he moved his other hand back and forth on the ground, the other two kits jumping and biting at his hand and arm. 

They were quiet playing with the babies until slowly, one by one the little foxes passed out, three of them curling up to cuddle against Bog, the other three snuggling up to Marianne. 

Bog smiled softly, stroking the head of one of the kits. 

“You’ll make a good father someday,” Marianne said softly. 

Bog blushed, his eyes on the kit he was petting. “Maybe.” 

“I think you can tell a lot about a man based on how he treats animals, especially baby animals,” she said. 

Bog turned to look at her. During the last hour that they had played with the foxes, they had moved closer together until Marianne’s shoulder was touching his, the babies lying across them both, with the mother fox sleeping at Bog’s feet. 

They weren’t aware of how long they stared at each other, but the attraction they both felt for each other had only intensified during their time together. Bog tilted his head at her, a slight frown on his lips, his dark brows furrowed, but his eyes were both curious and a little afraid. 

Marianne again felt the urge to touch Bog, but this time she didn’t resist the urge. She reached out to touch his cheek. There was a moment, as if time had become suspended, in which something tightened between them, like a rope pulled taut. Her fingers slid against his skin and into his hair, which was just as silky soft as she had imagined. She licked her lips, stroking her fingers through his hair before she lightly traced the tip of his ear with one finger. 

Bog closed his eyes partway, the blue glowing bright from under his dark lashes. He leaned into her touch, a soft growling purr rumbled in his chest. He turned his head slightly, pressing his nose and lips against the soft skin of her wrist. He took a breath, sniffing her skin, then licked her, followed by a deep, purring growl in his chest. Her skin tasted as good as he thought she would. 

Marianne’s breath caught when he licked her, Bog frowned looking at her and began to pull away. “I’m sorry. I…” 

But Marianne kept her hand in his hair, her fingers sliding along the back of his skull. She pulled him closer, her eyes moving from his eyes to his mouth and back again. They both began to pant as she guided him closer, their lips only a breath away from one another. She stared into his eyes knowing that she had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as she wanted to kiss Bog right now. 

When Bog reached out and laid a hand against her thigh, it was like the rope that had drawn them together at her touch, now tightened fully, becoming stronger, the connection complete. 

Leaning toward him, Marianne’s eyes slid close… 

Bog made another rumbling purr in his chest, his lips a mere breath from hers when he smelled terror on the air. 

His eyes widened. The mother fox was on her feet and yipped several times. Her kits came awake and raced to their mother, the small family fleeing into the tangled garden. 

Marianne felt Bog stiffen before the mother fox called her babies, and her eyes flew open. Bog’s expression had gone still, his brow furrowed. A growl that wasn’t alluring or meant to attract rumbled in his chest. 

“What is it?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her hand was still in his hair, but her fingers had gone still. 

Bog growled softly. “I smell terror, another vargr, young, a child…” He closed his eyes. “She’s scared...something’s chasing her…” Bog eyes popped open. “The woodsman.” 

“What?” Marianne and Bog both rose to their feet. 

Bog growled. “This way.” 

He took off at a sprint, his long legs and graceful frame had him cutting through the garden quickly. Marianne ran after him, keeping up a good pace, pulling her sword at the same time. Roland was chasing a child? She almost couldn’t believe it, but deep down she felt that he could be that bad. That monster! 

Marianne arrived at their destination a few seconds behind Bog. He had stopped at the edge of her grandmother's land. The dense fog on the other side of the fence made it hard to see anything. Bog was standing to his full, impressive height, his broad shoulders stiff as he moved his head back and forth, sniffing the air, his eyes closed as he focused his senses. 

Marianne looked out into the fog, her knuckles white as her grip tightened on her sword. She had never killed anyone before, but if Roland harmed a child… 

Bog stopped moving just as someone burst out of the fog. 

Marianne saw a little girl, no more than ten, maybe twelve years of age. Her hair was a long tangled mix of golden blonde, dark greys, and blacks the same shade as Bog’s. She was very slight of build, wearing only a shapeless, short dress that hung to her knees made from deerskin. Her eyes were a startling shade, a green so vivid that Marianne could see their color long before the girl was close enough for her to be able to see her face. 

Bog hurried, leaping over the fence and dropped into a crouch, his arms out. The little girl slammed into him so hard that Bog actually wavered with the impact. 

The little girl was crying, her sobs mixed with growling and grunts. 

“Shhh...shh...I have you,” Bog murmured standing up and taking the little girl with him. He looked out into the forest, sniffing the air before he turned and leaped over the fence in one, powerful jump before he took off at a jog, back toward Aura’s house. 

Marianne didn’t follow immediately, her gaze on the fores,t but whoever was chasing the little wolf girl, they didn’t appear. Maybe she had lost hi, Marianne thought with hope as she turned and headed back to her grandmother’s house. 

* 

Marianne caught up to Bog. He had the little girl sitting in the crook of one arm as he carried her. The little girl had her arms wrapped around Bog’s shoulders, but she peeked over his shoulder to look down at Marianne. 

Marianne smiled and gave the little wolf girl a wave with her fingers (she had resheathed her sword before she caught up with them.) The little girl pressed her face against Bog’s shoulder, only her eyes visible, watching Marianne closely. 

Bog was walking more calmly now as he stroked the little wolf girl’s back. (Marianne corrected herself. Vargr, was it?) He glanced over to Marianne then whispered loudly to the little girl. “Her name is Marianne--she’s a friend.” 

The little girl looked at Bog, then back to Marianne. 

“You should introduce yourself,” Bog said softly. 

The little wolf girl stared a little longer before she finally said, her voice muffled against Bog’s shoulder. “My name is Kenia.” 

“Hello Kenia, I’m Marianne,” Marianne said. “This is my grandmother’s place.” 

Kenia poked her head up over Bog’s shoulder a little more. “You’re the witch’s granddaughter?” 

Marianne nodded. 

Kenia looked at Bog. “She’s Grammie Aura’s granddaughter!” 

Bog chuckled. “Yes, I know.” 

Marianne giggled. The little girl called Aura Grammie too. She found that was sweet and realized that her grandmother was more important to many more people than she had ever realized. 

“Kenia, what happened?” Marianne asked gently. 

Kenia frowned, ducking down a little then whispered against Bog’s shoulder, her voice breaking, tears springing to her bright green eyes. “I saw the woodsman, he killed Wolfgrim.” 

Bog frowned and Marianne could see the stiffening in his back. “Wolfgrim’s dead?” 

Kenia nodded. “We were by the village…” 

Bog stopped walking and looked down at the little girl. Marianne could see that he had gone pale. “Kenia, what have I said about going close to the village?!” 

Tears began to fall down Kenia’s cheeks. “We were just looking and on the way back Wolfgrim smelt the woodsman. He made me run, but...I couldn’t leave him!” The little girl began to sob. “He killed Wolfgrim and took his coat!” 

Bog held the little girl tight, wrapping his arm around her. “It’s going to be all right Kenia…” 

“Wolfgrim’s dead because of me,” she cried. “It’s all my fault.” 

“No, no it isn’t,” Bog said clearly. “It’s that woodsman’s fault, never yours.” Bog glanced at Marianne and spoke gently. “Let’s get you inside to see Grammie Aura.” 

Kenia nodded, but still shook with sobs. Marianne's heart hurt for this little girl who had clearly seen her friend killed. 

She hated Roland with every fiber of her being for causing this little girl such pain. 

* 

They had just arrived at the door to Aura’s cottage when the door was flung open and Aura, looking wild-eyed and smelling of sulfur and skunk cabbage stood in the doorway. 

“Get in here! He’s on his way. I need you all to hide!”


	3. Claw and Ax

Aura looked at the three of them as she asked in a quiet tone. “Where’s Wolfgrim?” 

Kenia looked at Aura with wide eyes. She tried to be brave, but tears ran down her cheeks. 

Aura whispered. “Oh no...Roland…” 

Kenia turned and buried her face against Bog’s shoulder. He frowned and stroked the little girl’s back in an attempt to comfort the child. Marianne could see the blue fire in his eyes while his fangs seemed to grow slightly longer, deadlier. 

Bog growled, the sound of a deep rumble in his chest that made Marianne feel a little light-headed with pleasure of the sound, even if he was angry. “I won’t hide from that murderer.” 

Aura glared at him. “Bog, think of Marianne and Kenia.” 

Marianne frowned. “I don’t need to hide from him…” 

Aura groaned. “All right look: we do not have time to argue with both of you stubborn arseholes!” 

Kenia giggled, hiding her face against Bog’s shoulder, though her eyes were still filled with unshed tears, (even being scared as she was of the woodsman, to hear an adult curse was still funny) as Aura continued. “You are all hiding and that’s the end of it. Now go.” She pointed through a doorway. “There is a wardrobe in there that will fit all of you--get in it now.” 

Bog opened his mouth to protest. All his hair was standing on end in his anger, but Aura only glared up at him, not the least bit intimidated by Bog’s size as she pointed. “Don’t you make me put a hex on you Bog, because I’ll do it, you know I will. I’ll make all your hair fall out and you can be the only bald vargr in the forest.” 

Bog paled, then muttered as he stalked in the direction Aura had indicated with Kenia still held close. “I don’t like this.” 

Marianne turned to her grandmother, her mouth open to protest once more, but Aura turned her glare on her granddaughter. “Don’t you dare think I won’t put a hex on you too, Marianne, just because you’re my granddaughter. Now you go hide. If Roland sees you…” She shook her head, but then stepped closer to take Marianne by her hands. “I can handle that arrogant ass.” 

Marianne didn’t look happy, but she nodded, trusting her grandmother, though she added. “If he does anything, hurts you or even breathes wrong in your direction, I’m letting out Bog.” 

Aura laughed. “All right...oh…” 

Aura hurried out of the room into the kitchen, returned a few seconds later with a plate of cookies. “Here--take these, Kenia must be scared, and it will help.” 

Marianne took the plate and hurried into the other room. 

* 

She saw the wardrobe as soon as she stepped into the bedroom. The thing was huge, taking up a large portion of one wall her grandmother’s bedroom. Marianne knew she had been in this room a dozen times, but she didn’t recall ever seeing the wardrobe, unless it was new… 

Bog was sitting on the floor of it with Kenia in his lap, the doors open, several dresses hung inside, pushed to the side to make room for them. It was still going to be a tight fit (at least for Bog with his long legs, and tall stature), but they would be relatively comfortable the time it would take for Aura to get rid of the woodsman. 

Marianne smiled, holding the plate up. “Cookies…” 

They both heard Roland’s voice from outside yelling. “HEY!! OLD WITCH!!” 

Bog snarled, his eyes flashing, Marianne could tell by his posture, the way he hunched his shoulders, and the dark expression on his face that he wanted to move, to rush out there and confront Roland, but he didn’t move. She wasn’t sure if he was really afraid of her grandmother or simply respected her; either way he didn’t move. Instead he glanced at Marianne, his startling blue eyes seeking direction. It was clear in his eyes that he wanted her to tell him to go, but at the same time Marianne felt certain he would follow her lead. She felt both honored that Bog would listen to her and a little touched that already he trusted her so much. Marianne glanced at Kenia with a frown. The little girl clearly trusted her grandmother too. Marianne sighed, and she did as well. If Aura said she could handle Roland, then she trusted her to do so. 

She hurried over. “Inside.” 

Bog frowned slightly, but he didn’t fight her. He set Kenia farther back into the wardrobe. Though the little girl looked scared, she trusted Bog and, by the look in her eyes, she trusted Marianne too. Marianne vowed she wasn’t not going to betray this little girl's trust. 

Bog folded himself inside the wardrobe, scooting so Marianne could join him. She handed the plate to Kenia and stepped in; there was room, but not as much as such as she first thought, she realized as she balanced herself and pulled the doors shut. Just as she stepped back, she bumped into Bog and promptly fell onto his lap. 

Bog wrapped his arms around her, his lips close to her ear. “Shh…” he whispered. 

Marianne stayed quiet, both of them hearing Roland’s voice again. His voice sounded loud and clear enough this time, they knew he had to be at the door. 

* 

“WITCH!!” Roland strolled down the path toward the old witch’s house after kicking the gate open. He hated this place, hated the fairies he saw seconds before they disappeared into the overgrown garden; unnatural little blighters. This witch represented everything he hated: the elderly who were more burdensome than helpful, the chaos and strangeness of the fey that he hated for their otherworldliness, and a woman who lived outside the laws of the village, who did her own work, who even carried her own respect and influence on the people of the village. She was unmarried too!!! 

He didn’t understand why the mayor allowed her to live so near the village, even if she did live in the woods. He supposed it was because of Marianne and her family, as her family members were respected and admired… 

Roland snarled to himself. If only he could get Marianne into his bed with his ring on her finger and bearing his children, then all that respect would transfer to him. Not only would he have the most beautiful woman on his arm bearing his children, he could do what he wanted. He would drive this witch out, burn the woods to the ground. No more fey, hunt down the wolves, kill as many unnatural creatures as he could until everything was as he liked it. No more woods would mean more farmland, he could claim the land, and rent out parcels. Respect and riches would be his, as was his right. 

Roland grinned when he arrived at the door of the old hag’s home. The thoughts of his future once he won Marianne danced in his mind as he knocked hard against the door, his axe resting on his shoulder. 

“WITCH!!” He called out again. 

The door opened slowly to reveal Aura, who narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you want Roland? I told you before that I don’t have spells that enlarge anatomy.” 

Roland flushed. Her words made him angrier. “I was hunting something, a creature on two legs. You see anything?” 

Aura frowned at him. “A creature? You sure you weren’t just chasing your own shadow?” 

Roland narrowed his eyes at her. “Let me in--I want to check your house.” 

Aura gave Roland a look that said she thought he was ridiculous. “And why on earth would I let you into my home?” 

Roland hissed. “Look witch, I’m trying to be helpful. There are things in the woods…” He turned and looked behind him. He didn’t see any of the fairies he knew occupied the witch’s garden, but he knew they were there. He’d seen them only twice, once when he had come to the witch about an enlarging potion when he was much younger. It had been after Madel Hearthwood, the village’s local slut had laughed at him (he had taught her a lesson, but he had still come to the witch for help, though the old woman refused), and the last time he came to the witch, several years later for a another potion that she wouldn’t make--a love potion. 

He had hated her ever since, hated her unnaturalness, the respect she held, her age, and the fact that she could have helped him, but refused when she helped everyone else. 

He turned back around, his eyes narrowed still as something came to him. The witch lived in these woods, she had unnatural things in her yard, all around her! She had probably seen all sorts of things, unnatural things that she wouldn’t tell a soul about...who knew what she cavorted with out there in the woods! She might even do things, give potions to those unnatural things in the woods! 

She worked her unnatural magics, giving out her potions, doing things that no normal person could or should do! 

Roland realized with a glare that she wouldn’t tell him if she saw anything, she would lie to him! Most women were liars anyway, he knew that, but women who worked with the unnatural had to be liars! 

He licked his bottom lip as the old woman looked at him with a condescending expression in her eyes. 

“You have it don’t you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

Aura frowned at him. “It? What are you talking about?” 

“Stand aside, senile old woman…” Roland stepped toward her. “...I’m going to find that creature and kill it, take it’s head and its skin back to the mayor…” Roland grinned. “...I’m going to show everyone that no one tries to fool Roland Huntsman.” 

* 

Marianne shifted on Bog’s lap, causing him to grunt. She felt...something...against her rear, but… 

She blushed, trying to banish any thoughts about Bog and his anatomy from her mind while she tried to listen to her grandmother, but it was difficult to concentrate. There was definitely something firm under her rear that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. 

She swallowed and closed her eyes while listening. She had heard her grandmother open the door, but now that Roland wasn’t shouting she couldn’t quite hear what was being said, just the muffled sound of voices. 

She adjusted herself on Bog’s lap. She had thought about moving, to try to sit on the floor next to Kenia, but there wasn’t really a lot of space to move in here and...it was nice being this close to him. 

This close, she was surrounded by that rich combination of spices that made up his scent. It made her head swim a little. He had his long legs bent, which pushed her closer against his bare chest while he held one arm around her. One of his large, clawed hands rested lightly on her back, while his other hand rested across her thighs. 

She shifted her position a small fraction. Her legs were bent a little comfortably, she just needed to adjust her feet, but when she moved Bog made a soft grunt that sounded like a cross between pained and something else. HIs hands flexed and he pushed himself back against the wardrobe. 

“Are you all right?” she whispered. 

Bog swallowed before he answered. His voice sounded a little strained to Marianne. “I’m fine, just a little tight in here.” 

Marianne turned her head. She could see him in the pale light that leaked through the gaps in the door. She saw with interest that his eyes glowed brighter in the pale light. She could imagine him in the woods, hunting, his eyes the only thing visible in the darkness of the wood. The thought sent a shudder through her. It wasn’t a shudder of fear, but of attraction. A vivid thought flashed through her mind, of Bog leaping at her from the woods, pinning her to the ground, his hot breath over her, caressing her skin, rustling her hair, his clawed hands holding her wrists over her head while he dragged his tongue along her throat. 

What was wrong with her?! She thought as she shifted again on his lap, heat building between her legs only to have Bog grunt again and whisper. “Could you please not do that?” 

“Sorry,” she said softly. 

Marianne swallowed. This close, she could see the slight dampness on his lips where he had licked them, the hint of his fangs behind his lips, the thick hair on his chin and along his jaw. She stared at him, saw the light scars that ran from under his lower lip and along his chin. She reached out to brush her fingers along his chin, then reached out to caress his jaw with her fingertips. This was not the time or the place, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from touching him. He was handsome in a way that she couldn’t find words for, something wild and erotic, something forbidden that she couldn’t stop herself from wanting. She reached up and brushed her fingers over the point of one of his ears. At the same time she felt Bog’s hand on her thigh stroke up her leg to her knee. 

Marianne couldn’t seem to stop herself. This close to him, he was all she could focus on. She brought her hand down and reached out to brush his lips with her fingers in a feather light touch. 

Bog’s eyes closed slightly. His blue eyes glowed from under his lashes as he leaned into her caress, and when she touched his lips he opened his mouth slightly; his breath was hot against her fingers. His tongue very lightly licked the tips of her fingers. Marianne felt that lick slip under her skin and into her blood, racing through her. She leaned closer, her eyes on his lips. She stroked his bottom lip, pulled it down a hair’s breadth to look at his fangs. He opened his mouth a little wider, letting Marianne stroke a fingertip against one of his fangs. She looked up and into his eyes to see him watching her from under his lashes, and the glow of his eyes caused her heartbeat to speed up, her breath to become more ragged. 

“Marianne…” He said her name like a plea and a prayer. 

She leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “Bog…” 

She could feel the beat of his heart under her touch and in her blood. The way he said her name made her hot and sweaty, a call to the ache she felt deep inside. Bog tightened his hold on her, pulling her ever so slightly closer as his claws stroked along her spine. Her nipples hardened, pressing against her tunic. She wondered how the hair on his chest would feel brushing against her nipples... 

She wanted to kiss him, to touch his lips. It wasn’t just a complusion, but a need so desperate that she felt it like a welcome stab in her heart. Bog’s entire body was aware of her. Her scent filled his nostrils and he could taste her on his tongue. He wanted her, needed this human woman. He had never felt like this about anyone before, such need, desire mixed with...he didn’t know, but he liked Marianne, though ‘like’ was such a small word to describe how he was feeling about her. He wondered, as she stared at him, a little spark of hope that burned low and sad, too fearful to turn into something brighter, that maybe...maybe she was his mate, the one he had been hoping for... 

Fear sat in his belly like a coiled snake, writhing about with tension, fear and worry a sickening mix. What if he was wrong? What if he was right? And then there was his animalistic nature to consider. Could he be with her without hurting her? Would his lusts and urges be too much for her human body? 

Could their mating even be possible? 

But even as his mind churned out a storm of questions and fears, Bog leaned toward her, their eyes locked, his lips close enough that they could both feel the mixing of their breath, when they both heard Kenia suck in a breath followed by her little voice filled with wonder and happiness. 

“Are you two mated??!!” 

Bog stiffened. Marianne felt his entire body go tight, and when he spoke, his voice lacked confidence. “Ah...no…” 

Marianne turned as much as the tight confines of their hiding place would allow, the movement causing Bog to grunt again followed by a very low, almost inaudible groan. 

Marianne saw the little girl’s green eyes in the darkness of the wardrobe. She could just make out the little girl’s smile from the thin light leaking into the wardrobe, as well as the glow of her not-quite-human eyes, much like Bog’s. 

“I like you,” Kenia asserted. “I think you would be a good mate for Bog. I can tell you two like each other.” The little girl sniffed the air and smiled. “You like each other lots!!” She grinned showing off her little fangs in the dim light, and the suggestion made Marianne blush brightly. “He needs a mate--he’s lonely,” Kenia said with the blunt honesty only a child could have. “I think you would be a really good mate. You should kiss him.” Kenia nodded with all the sage advice of a ten year old before shoving a cookie in her mouth and talking around her mouthful. “Bog would make a good mate…” She swallowed. “...he is strong. He’s the strongest vargr in our pack. He’s nice too. He took me on my first hunt. Everyone else said I was too little, but Bog said I was big enough, my claws were sharp and my fangs were strong.” Kenia’s voice became soft in the next instant. “Wolfgrim would like you too. Please be Bog’s mate, you would make him happy. Bog should be happy.” 

Marianne smiled gently. “I…” 

That was when they both heard Aura cry out, followed by the sound of a door slamming and the sound of something hitting the floor. 

All three of them turned toward the door of the wardrobe. Now Roland’s voice was loud and clear. 

“What kind of unnatural things are you keeping here witch?” Roland growled at the front of the house. “I know you associate with the unnatural things of the woods…” 

“Get out of my house!” Aura shouted at him, which was followed by the clear sound of someone being slapped. 

Bog growled and the rumble in his chest vibrated through Marianne’s body. The sensation felt sexy as well as frightening. “Marianne…” 

She knew exactly what he was asking. She gave Bog a quick nod before she shoved the doors open and jumped off Bog’s lap. Bog moved with surprising speed, unfolding himself from the wardrobe and landing on his feet with a snarl. As Marianne turned to look at him, Bog’s fangs and claws seemed to have grown while his blue eyes blazed with fury. Marianne had never been so attracted to anyone like she was Bog, but seeing him in his savage glory she found herself wanting him even more. 

He let out another low rumbling growl. 

Bog looked at her, his teeth bared before he took off toward the front of the house. Marianne turned to Kenia to see the little girl still in the wardrobe, her own claws and fangs extended, a small, cute little growl rumbling from her tiny chest, but her green eyes were filled with fear, glittering with tears. 

Marianne rushed over to her. “I want you to stay here--can you do that?” 

Kenia frowned. “I can claw and bite…” 

“I know sweetheart, but you know this man is horrible right?” 

Kenia nodded, the tears in her eyes spilling over. “But...will you help Bog?” she asked, tears coming quicker to her bright green eyes. “Will you bite him and claw him? I don’t want the woodsman to chop Bog up like he did Wolfgrim…” Her chin started to tremble. “Please don’t let the woodsman kill Bog. I love him, he’s like my big brother...I want him to be mated with you and be happy.” 

The little wolf girl was trying so hard to be brave that it broke Marianne’s heart. She reached into the wardrobe to cup the little girl’s cheek, wiping a tear with her thumb. 

“Don’t you worry, I’ll bite the hell out of Roland. And I promise I won’t let Roland hurt Bog. Now I’m going to close the doors. Stay put until I come get you all right?” 

Kenia nodded, her eyes huge. 

Marianne smiled and quickly closed the doors before running after Bog. 

* 

Aura gasped holding her hand to her face. She could feel the bruise forming even as she glared at Roland who pushed past her into her house, nearly knocking her off her feet. She turned with a curse on her lips when she saw Bog, his fangs bared, claws extended a half beat before he leapt through the doorway. His eyes glowed a savage and vibrant blue with hatred and rage. 

Roland turned at the sound just as Bog slammed into him, the vargr’s large shoulder slamming into Roland’s side. 

Roland turned at the last second, managing to just barely keep his feet under him. He brought the butt end of his ax handle down, but Bog caught the large man behind the neck and shoulder. 

Both men stumbled crashing into a table. 

Roland was surprisingly quick, getting to his feet nearly as fast as Bog and holding his ax ready, a nasty smile on his lips, a smile that said he was looking forward to this fight. 

Bog growled, his torso hunched, his claws deadly sharp, and his eyes on his opponent. 

Roland sneered. “I knew it, I knew you had congress with the unnatural things!” 

“ROLAND!!” Marianne yelled his name drawing the woodsman’s attention as she rushed into the room. 

Roland’s head snapped over to her, his eyes widening at the sight of her, then narrowed. “Marianne, come over here. I’ll protect you from this...creature.” He spat at Bog, who growled in response, his teeth elongated too much for him to speak properly. 

“Roland, you need to leave,” Marianne said as she drew her sword. 

Roland looked momentarily confused. “What? Why do you have a sword?” 

“This is my grandmother’s house and Bog is a guest. You’ve assaulted my grandmother, fool. You’re lucky I’m letting you walk out, but believe me: the mayor is going to hear about what you’ve done here.” 

“What have I done here?!!” Roland’s voice rose to a near hysterical notch. “I’m in these woods hunting monsters and here I find one…” He pointed at Bog with his ax. “And you’re accusing me of assaulting your grandmother??!” Roland shook his head. “After this, I’ll make you see sense…” He leered at her. “I’m not above teaching a woman her place.” 

Bog’s snarl changed tone. It had been frightening before, a deep, masculine, animalistic sound that sent shivers up Marianne’s spine, but this new sound he made caused her blood to turn to ice. 

Roland was not going to leave here alive. 

She found herself not upset by this notion. Marianne found that she felt nothing about Roland at all, except perhaps scorn. She couldn’t decide if that was worrisome, or simply the fact that she knew this man had no redeemable qualities. 

Roland was the real monster. 

Roland didn’t need Marianne to say anything to realize what she was thinking. Her disgust was clear in her eyes. 

He hissed at her. “You care about this monster, don’t you!” 

“He's not a monster.” Marianne’s voice was soft. “None of them are monsters.” She looked at Bog and Roland could see that she did feel for the beast, she...was she in love with it? Had she...fucked it? Disgust rolled over him like a wave, nauseating as his revulsion boiled up. 

Roland let out his own snarl. Rage, disgust, and hatred fueled him as he turned toward Bog, ready to use his ax to cut the wolfman open from throat to groin. He raced toward Bog moving surprisingly quick for a human, but Bog was ready. 

The moment Roland was almost on him, Bog leaped straight up, grabbing Roland’s head and pushing down with all his strength, launching himself over Roland while at the same time shoving Roland down toward the floor. He landed on his feet hard enough that Marianne was sure the entire cottage shook. 

Bog spun around, his eyes flashing. 

Roland stumbled. The strength of Bog’s attack had caused his head to tilt down, throwing his balance forward. Roland couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the floor. His nose smashed into the floorboards with a loud pop while he cut his lips on his own teeth. He slid a little forward, but he roll to his side and thrust himself up to feet just as Bog came at him again. 

Bog snarled, slashing with his claws. Roland blocked the first lunges of clawed hands, using his arms and his ax handle as a shield. After the fourth block, Roland pivoted his right hip forward and snapped the butt of the ax forward in a feint. Bog reached up to block the attack with his forearm, but Roland snapped the head of the ax forward to lash at Bog’s right side. Bog ducked under the blow and didn’t let up easily, taking a few superficial cuts on his hands and forearm from the ax cuts, but he clawed at Roland, giving Roland a few nicks and gashes on the blonde man’s forearms too. 

Roland jumped back a few steps, his arms stinging and bloody, but he grinned; he had experienced worse and this was nothing. The monster had a few nicks of his own. Roland knew one good swing and he could slice open the animal’s throat, he didn’t think that the monster’s claws were as finely honed as the blade of his axe. 

He rushed forward, switched his hold on the ax as he swung it forward in a tight cross swing, hoping to cut through Bog’s throat, but just as the blade cut through the air forcing Bog back, the vargr lashed out with his feet to slam both feet against Roland’s chest. The impact sent the shorter man stumbling back into a wall, causing several shelves of ceramics to come crashing to the floor around him. Bog landed on the floor, but caught himself with his hands and pushed upright again in the same breath. He rushed forward, claws slashing at the woodsman, but Roland swung his weapon low, blocking the inital attack and scored a cut into Bog’s forearm. A second quick slice of the sharp ax head forced Bog to snatch his hand away or lose his arm. 

Pushing off quickly from the wall Roland swung his ax again at the retreating beast, this time at chest level. He took a chance with a stronger forward lunge and was rewarded when he broke through Bog’s guard, even as the creature leaned back to avoid the blond man’s weapon. Roland still drew blood, the ax blade sharp enough that it left a fine line across Bog’s chest that blossomed with blood. 

* 

Marianne gasped and stepped forward to help, but Aura grabbed her granddaughter to stop her. Marianne spun around. The two men were dancing in a tight circle. Roland, grinning now that he had drawn blood, swung his axe in quick, short slices through the air that forced Bog backwards while Bog continued to circle Roland, avoiding the axe swings. He had yet to land a significant attack on Roland, but it was only a matter of time. 

“Let me help him!” Marianne hissed in fear and panic, but her grandmother shook her head. “Bog needs to do this Marianne.” 

“What are you talking about?” Marianne looked from her grandmother to Bog, her brown eyes wide with panic. 

“Marianne, I knew the signs, that boy is in love with you…” Aura hissed, causing Marianne to look her full in the eye. “What are you talking about? We just met,” Marianne said, but at the same time she said the words, she knew. She knew what her grandmother was saying was true because she felt it as well, like something in her chest, in her very soul that had been left half formed had suddenly come together. And the pure lust she felt toward Bog was something more than simple attraction. 

Aura hissed quickly. “Look, I know the vargr. Once he had your scent, he was yours, but now that you two have met…” She smiled though her face was pale, the bruise on her cheek turning blue and purple. 

“If he can’t prove himself that he’s your mate, that he can care for you…” Aura began, but Marianne interrupted. 

“That’s stupid, I don’t need him to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” 

Aura smiled. “I know that, and he knows that, but there is still that urge, that need to prove himself even if he isn’t fully aware of it. You need to let him. If it looks like Roland is going to kill him, then you step in, but for now...as hard and painful as it is, let him fight.” 

Marianne turned toward Bog. Her knuckles around the hilt of her sword were white, but she didn’t move. 

* 

Roland swung his ax again, a fine sweat mixed with the blood on his face making him look maniacal as he tried to drive Bog into a corner. Bog leaned out of the way of each of Roland’s swings, looking for the right moment. He dropped into a crouch when Roland stepped closer with a vicious diagonal swipe of the weapon. The vargr spun on one foot away from the attack and he lashed out as he pivoted, his claws catching Roland across the thigh to tear into his pants and skin, leaving four bloody claw marks behind. The claws dug deep, but not enough to disable Roland. Still, the woodsman was forced to stumble back out of the way before Bog could make a second attack. 

Roland responded by slashing low. Bog pulled back, but the ax blade clipped his knee. Though the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause real, lasting damage, it stung and blood washed down his pants leg. 

The two men circled each other for a couple of seconds until Roland charged Bog. He swung his ax at a Bog's, face but Bog leaned back out of the way. 

Both men were panting, Bog’s breaths punctuated by growls and snarls. 

Roland sneered at Bog. “So you think she loves you, or that you love her? Do you really think a dog like you, a monster, could have anything with a beauty like her? Do you think Marianne could possibly love you? You’re nothing but a freak, a deviation in nature that real men like me are sent here to correct. She could never love something as hideous and repulsive as you.” 

Bog hesitated. Part of him feared that what Roland was saying was true, that he was nothing but a freak. Even among his own people he was something of an oddity with his massive height and slender build. Maybe he didn’t belong anywhere. How could someone as beautiful as Marianne love something as horrible as him? 

Roland grinned viciously when he saw his words have their intended effect. He swung his ax in a hard, over-handed swing. Bog didn’t react swiftly enough, though he backpedaled, and the ax head embedded in the vargr’s left shoulder. 

Marianne screamed. 

Roland yanked Bog forward with the weapon, but Bog snarled and swung the claws of his right hand up and across to catch Roland in the side, his claws digging through cloth and flesh to hit the bone of Roland’s ribs. Roland let out a cry as Bog clawed him again, this time slashing Roland across the face. Roland screamed and let go of the ax where it remained embedded in Bog’s shoulder, trapped within the bone. 

Bog stumbled back, pain clear in his blue eyes. 

Roland’s eyes were wide as he looked down at his bloody hands. 

“YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!” Roland yelled, but he turned. Behind him was another shelf filled with bottles of colored liquid. He reached for them just as Aura yelled. “NO!! DON’T TOUCH THOSE!!” 

Roland swiped everything off the shelf. He planned to smash the glass into his opponent’s face, but he succeeded only in sending the bottles crashing to the floor. The instant the bottles broke open, the liquids mixed together and a large cloud of colorful smoke burst upward to fill the room quickly. 

Marianne was blinded, her eyes tearing up, stinging, the smoke so thick that she couldn’t see anything at all. She breathed in and started to cough, tasting sulfur and other acidic flavors on her tongue while the smoke burned her throat, leaving it raw. She heard the sound of crashing followed by the sound of a door slamming. This was followed by another sound of something heavy hitting the floor. 

“BOG!” Marianne called out, her hands in front of her as she tried to find him. 

She heard her grandmother’s voice. “Find Bog, I’ll get Kenia. Get outside as fast as you can.” 

“Bog!” Marianne called out, followed by a painful cough. She couldn’t hear him, she didn’t hear a cough, nothing, and he didn’t respond to her calling him. 

She closed her eyes, the stinging only getting worse. She heard her grandmother’s coughing and then Kenia’s voice. “What happened, where’s Bog…” The little girl coughed. 

Marianne dropped to the floor and began feeling around until her fingers felt Bog’s foot. 

“Bog...Bog!” She crawled up his legs, feeling the wet stickiness of blood until her fingers found skin. She worked her way up to his face though her fingers brushed against the axe in his shoulder. The feeling of hot blood and the wood handle of the axe made her sick to her stomach, but she held herself together. She ran her fingers blindly over his face, touching his lips. 

Her fingers lingered over his lips...she felt a warm breath against her skin. 

“Come on Bog...I can’t lift you...please…” Marianne leaned down and did the only thing she could think of, she kissed him. She pressed her lips to his and whispered. “Please Bog, please get up.” 

She kissed his closed eyes, then his lips one more time, a tender press of her lips against his bloody ones, willing him to open his eyes. “Please…” Her voice was a soft plea followed by a painful cough, but this time she was rewarded by Bog sucking in a breath followed by a cough and a groan of pain. 

“Marianne?” He said her voice with such hope that the sound hurt her heart. 

Marianne nearly burst into tears. “Thank the spirits...Bog. Grammie says we need to get out of the cottage…” Marianne coughed. It was becoming painful to breathe and opening her eyes was nearly impossible. 

Bog groaned in response, but he moved, slowly. She could feel his body shift under her hand where it rested against his stomach. She felt him sit up, then reaching blinding. She grabbed his hand and stood, opening her eyes just a little though the tearing and burning made it difficult for her to see as she helped to pull him to his feet. He staggered for a moment, but Marianne held him until he got his feet under him. 

She heard her grandmother move past her with Kenia, both of them coughing painfully. 

She got Bog to his feet, wrapping his good arm around her shoulder while she wrapped her arm around his waist and headed--she hope--toward the front door. She was rewarded with a sudden bright light of the door opening. 

She followed that light, holding Bog up, one difficult step at a time. 

* 

Seconds later Marianne stumbled out of the cottage with Bog leaning heavily on her. The sudden gulp of fresh air caused her to cough painfully again, but at least the air tasted sweet. It took another few seconds for her eyesight to clear. Bog stumbled, fell to his knees out of her grip. He moaned softly, coughed, then fell to his side, rolling onto his back and lay silent. Marianne wiped at her eyes, looking down at him. He was pale, his skin sallow and sweaty. Blood lay spattered over his face and Roland’s ax was still in his shoulder like some horrible mutation. 

Kenia cried out. “BOG!!” 

The little wolf girl rushed over to drop to her knees beside Bog as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Bog!” She wrapped her little arms around his head only to have Bog reach up with his good arm and pat her head “I’m all right Kenia…Just need to rest.” 

His voice just caused the little wolf girl to burst into a new bout of tears. Bog smiled, weakening, his eyes catching Marianne’s eyes over the top of Kenia’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Why?” Marianne reached out to brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead, careful not to touch the ax. 

“He got away,” Bog answered softly. 

Aura had moved to sit at the top of Bog’s head, frowning as she inspected the ax in his shoulder. 

“Bog, you fought bravely...you were amazing,” Marianne whispered. 

Bog chuckled then winced in pain. 

Aura looked at Marianne. “I’ll need to get the ax out, but it's embedded in the bone. It’s gonna be painful and everything I need is inside.” She looked toward her cottage. “We’ll have to wait until the smoke clears.” 

Marianne nodded, looking pale and sick as she gazed down at Bog who was gently stroking Kenia’s hair and whispering words of comfort to the little vargr girl. 

“Distract him. I’m going to take Kenia, I have a few herbs here in the garden he can chew on for the pain.” Aura stood up, but Bog looked up at her. 

“You know I can hear you.” 

Aura smiled. “Let Marianne distract you from the pain. Kenia and I’ll have something to help in a little bit.” 

Kenia looked up at Aura then back at Marianne. “You’ll take care of him?” 

Marianne nodded. “Yes.” 

Kenia wiped her tears and smiled. “Thank you.” 

Aura put her hand out and Kenia grabbed it. She lifted the little girl to her feet, keeping a hold of her hand, and moved in the direction of the garden. Marianne watched as they quickly disappeared into the chaotic garden and saw several fairies come out of hiding to follow them. 

A handful of fairies flew toward Marianne and Bog. 

Marianne moved to take up Aura’s position, carefully moving Bog’s head onto her lap. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath before she eased his head back down. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

Bog smiled, his fangs back to their normal length. “It’s fine. This is new for both of us.” He looked up at her and whispered. “You are beautiful. I wanted to tell you that just in case I don’t get to later.” 

Marianne laughed smiling. “Thank you and you can tell me again later because you’ll still be here.” She paused then whispered. “I think you’re handsome.” 

He laughed, then groaned in pain. “You don’t have to say that.” 

“I know I don’t,” she whispered, caressing his cheek “But it’s true.” 

Bog looked up at her, his startling blue eyes were glowing again, but this time the glow was warm, generating a tickle in her chest that burst like a flower opening to the first spring day. The sensation spread through her as she gazed down at him, stroking his hair back over his pointed ears before she slid back a little, leaned over, and kissed him, a true kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth. She held his head in her lap, her fingers caressing his jaw, licking his bottom lip before slipping her tongue into his mouth again. 

Bog made a soft moan, reaching up with his good hand to cradle the back of her head, his claws very gently stroked her scalp while he opened his mouth a little wider, his tongue caressing hers in a tender yet passionate kiss that he felt spread through him, easing away the cold and leaving only her warmth behind. 

Behind them they both heard an amused voice chuckle. “Well that’s one way to distract him from his pain.” Aura laughed followed by Kenia’s giggle and a loud whisper. 

“I told ya they were mated.”


	4. Healing and Prep

The forest was a blur of red for Roland as he stumbled through the trees, his face and side burning with pain. He was thankful that the monster hadn’t taken his eyes, but the blood dripping into his eyes made it difficult to see properly and twilight was falling to make his situation worse. That monster had slashed his face! His beautiful face!! 

The snarl that escaped Roland’s lips would have done a vargr proud as his rage and hatred fueled his stumble through the woods. He would raise a mob and storm through this wood! He would burn that witch’s hut down, then burn the forest until he had destroyed not just that vulgar monster who coveted Marianne, but he would kill them all. Every last one of the unnatural creatures that lived here. 

* 

The fact that they were able to get Bog up and into her grandmother’s cottage amazed Marianne, but after the smoke cleared and he had chewed on some herbs, Bog stood on his own, with little help, though the ax still embedded in his shoulder made Marianne feel light-headed just looking at it. He was clearly still in some pain, but not like he had been. Whatever it was that her grandmother had given Bog for the pain had helped. 

The three of them guided him into the house regardless, and Aura had Marianne take him into her bedroom and lay him on the bed. 

While Aura took Kenia with her to gather something she would need to help Bog, Marianne sat on the side of the bed and held Bog’s hand. 

“Are you doing all right?” she asked softly. 

Bog looked pale and a fine film of sweat glistened on his brow, but his eyes were bright as he gazed at her. “I’ve been better,” he said with a weak smile, “but I’m well enough.” 

Marianne frowned, rubbing her thumb over the large knuckles of his hand, his claws rested gently against her skin. “I’m sorry about Roland.” 

Bog frowned at her and Marianne thought the look of genuine confusion on his face was almost comical. “Why would you apologize for him?” 

She shrugged in response and looked down at their hands. “I suppose because I’m human and he’s human…” 

Bog smiled with a soft chuckle that devolved into a wince of pain before he murmured. “You don’t need to apologize for your entire species Marianne. I would never judge all of you by the actions of a few.” He gazed up at her, his strange blue eyes bright. Those eyes on her evoked ripples of warmth to roll over her like a warm, summer breeze. “You are nothing like Roland.” His voice was soft. “You are like no one I’ve ever met Marianne.” When he said her name there was a slight purr to his voice that made those warm ripples shoot straight down her body. She shifted a little, pressing her legs together as her heartbeat throbbed between her legs along with a swell of emotion in her chest that was painful with longing. Maybe her grandmother was right; love could happen swiftly. She had read about such things in stories, though she never believed them. Looking down at Bog, however, and holding his hand, she found that she couldn’t face the thought of being away from him. She wanted to heal him, hold him, cherish him, and...love him. 

She smiled and sighed wrapping her other hand around their joined ones, lightly caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips. “I know, I just somehow feel responsible for Roland.” 

“Don’t.” There was a soft growl to the word when he spoke. “You had nothing to do with his behavior. You know him, but that doesn’t make you responsible for him. He is responsible for his own actions, his own hatred and prejudices.” Bog closed his eyes with a sigh, sinking a little into the bed. Whatever herbs Marianne’s grandmother had given him for the pain were fading. Marianne could see the pain furrow in his brow deepening as Bog spoke. “He is not a good man.” 

Bog was quiet for a few seconds, he looked tired. No, Marianne thought, he looked exhausted. His voice was fading to a whisper that contained pain and some anguish, and that made her feel a different kind of pain. She could do nothing but hold his hand and wait for her grandmother, and the feeling of helplessness killed her. She wanted nothing more than to take his pain away. 

Bog whispered as if moving his lips was painful for him. “I just...I don’t know what I should do. Fighting with him to defend you, Aura, and Kenia is one thing, an honorable thing, but going after him, hunting Roland down now feels like murder.” He frowned, his eyes filled with pain (and not all of it physical, Marianne was certain), unsure of what he should do. “But I know he is going to be a problem…I know if he finds any of us, Kenia, any of the adults or children...he’ll kill them.” Bog looked to Marianne, his gaze filled with fear. “I need to protect my people.” He sighed with exhaustion. 

“At least he doesn’t know where we are--our home is well hidden.” 

Marianne frowned as well. Bog was right. What could they do about Roland? 

“That’s good.” She smiled. “I doubt Roland is brave enough to venture too far into the wood alone.” 

They were both quiet for a moment. The only sound they heard was Aura rattling around looking for whatever it was she needed to get the ax out of Bog’s shoulder when Bog suddenly spoke with an edge of panic in his voice. “We need to protect your grandmother.” 

“What?” Marianne turned to look down at him. 

Bog frowned, his eyes bright. “Roland--he will come back here. He doesn’t know where my people are, but he’s the type of person who will lash out at whoever he can, and he does know where your grandmother lives.” Bog tried to sit up, but groaned in pain, going from pale to nearly white, perspiration beading heavier on his brow. 

Marianne laid her free hand against his chest, gently shoving him back down at Bog continued in a strained voice. “He’ll hurt her to get to me, to my people, punish her for associating with us. If he can’t hurt me, or my people, he’ll hurt the witch.” Bog looked at Marianne with bright panic filled eyes. “He’ll kill her Marianne.” 

Marianne stared at Bog, his words sinking in, and she knew he was right. 

Roland was a small little man, a small, violent man who felt that the world owed him something. Who felt that everything he wanted should simply be given to him. He was vain, arrogant, vicious, and cruel. He was filled with hatred and she knew he would hurt her grandmother. 

“What can we do?” she asked looking down at Bog. 

“Marianne, honey, I’m going to need you to sit on Bog and pin his arms to his sides as best you can.” The sound of Aura’s voice as she came into the room caused them both to jump. 

“What?” Marianne asked in confusion. 

Kenia hurried over to Bog and Marianne. “Grammie has so many things I’m not allowed to touch!” 

The little wolf girl looked both disappointed and impressed by the revelation. 

Aura set jars and bottles she had brought with her down on the table beside the bed. “Even with what I’m going to give to Bog, pulling that ax out is going to hurt. He is going to want to thrash or try and stop you…” 

“Stop me?” Marianne asked in confusion. 

Bog interrupted, looking a little insulted. “I will not.” 

Aura smiled at him. “Dear, I know you don’t think you will, but your instincts will kick in despite what you want. And it’s going to hurt--a lot. If it wasn’t in the bone, it wouldn’t hurt half as much as it’s going to. I can only do so much for that, but we’ve got to get that ax out so your natural healing can kick in, along with a little help from me.” She turned her attention to Marianne. “You are the strongest person available to pull that ax out. I’m going to give you a slight strengthening spell to help so this goes fast and so you can keep Bog pinned down.” 

Marianne looked pale. “But...shouldn’t you…” 

Aura smiled. “Dear, if Bog’s your mate, it needs to be you.” 

Both Marianne and Bog turned pale, then red. 

Kenia giggled, but Aura ignored them. “Now, get on top of him and pin his arms witih your legs, then I want you to drink…” Aura turned to the bottles she had set on the table frowning for a second as her eyes moved quickly over them. “Ah...yes, this one!” She picked up a small bottle with a brown liquid resting at the bottom of it. “Just take one sip.” 

Marianne took a deep breath while looking at Bog who smiled at her and whispered. “I trust you. I trust you with my life Marianne.” 

She felt a burst of butterflies in her stomach. “Bog…” 

Leaning down Marianne kissed him, a soft yet deeply passionate kiss that caused Bog to growl deep in his chest. 

She pulled back and brushed her nose against his long, pointed nose. “I’ll be careful.” 

“I know you will.” Bog smiled. 

Marianne took a deep breath, released his hand, and stood up. “All right let’s get this over with.” 

Aura grinned and handed her the small bottle. “One sip.” 

Marianne nodded, took the bottle, pulled the cork, and took a sip. The potion tasted like brown sugar, which surprised her. 

Aura saw the surprise on her granddaughter’s face and laughed. “Not everything has to taste bad. I make a point of trying to make sure my potions taste good.” 

Kenia muttered. “Except that green stuff you made me drink last winter when I was sick.” 

Aura laughed. “Well that was to encourage you NOT to go swimming in icy rivers young lady.” 

Kenia made a face and the older woman laughed. 

“All right. Marianne get in position, Bog lay your arms down along your sides.” Aura motioned at her granddaughter. 

Marianne looked at Bog and gave him a soft smile. “I’m sorry.” 

Bog smiled. “Don’t be. I’m ready.” 

Marianne climbed onto the bed where she gently straddled Bog, sitting on his hips, his arms pinned against his sides by her legs. Aura hurried over and pressed a different glass with a long thin neck against his lips. The liquid inside was white. “Now drink all of this, it will dull the pain as best it can, but this is still going to hurt.” 

Bog nodded looking up at her with full trust in his eyes. Aura smiled at him as she held the edge of the bottle to his lips, easing the white liquid into his mouth until the small jar was empty. 

“There now.” Aura handed the empty bottle to Kenia as she looked up at her granddaughter. “Ready?” 

Marianne frowned. “I don’t think the potion is working…” 

“It is, trust me. Now put both hands on the ax handle and pull up as fast as you can. Try not to lean on it…” Aura instructed. “...just pull straight up.” 

Marianne gently wrapped her hands around the ax handle looking down at Bog who smiled at her. “It’s all right,” he whispered. 

She nodded, took a deep breath through her nose, and hesitated. 

Bog looked up at her with his strange blue eyes glimmering. His smile looked weak, but heartfelt, and she could feel his smile settling into her heart. “I trust you,” he whispered. “I trust you with my life…” He then added softly, barely a whisper. “...and with my heart.” 

Marianne felt tears sting her eyes as she nodded and smiled at him, and in the next second she pulled up on the ax. 

The strength in her arms surprised her as she yanked the ax straight up and out, blood immediately oozed from the wound, dark and thick. Bog let out a cry, deep, guttural, and full of pain that she felt deep in her bones and in her chest. He bucked and thrashed for a couple of seconds. Marianne’s thighs tightened around him to keep him from throwing her off, the strength draught aiding in keeping her in place. And then Bog stopped moving, his head fell to the side, his mouth slightly open. 

Aura was at his side within an eyeblink, cleaning the wound. So much blood ran from Bog’s shoulder wound that Marianne felt lightheaded. 

Marianne started to slide off of him, panic setting into her bones, but Aura hissed. “Stay put.” 

Marianne went still, not moving as Aura quickly washed out the wound with water and some slightly yellow liquid. She then sprinkled something white over it. Marianne saw a hint of white bone within the wound surrounded by blood and flesh… 

She felt a wave of dizziness pass over her as she quickly looked away while her grandmother worked. 

Bog stirred a few seconds later. He growled and started to struggle under her, his eyes only open a sliver, but Marianne could tell he didn’t see her. 

“Bog! Stop!” Marianne pleaded, putting her hands on his chest, but Aura shook her head. “He can’t hear you right now--just hold him down until I’m done!” 

Marianne pressed her hands against his chest, her legs tightening against his struggles while Aura worked. Her grandmother had pulled out a long, curved needled and started to sew the flesh together. Bog’s growls turned into whimpers of pain. He was so pale that it frightened Marianne, but after another handful of seconds he was out again. 

Aura sighed, dropped the bloody needle into a bottle of liquid, and started to wrap the wound. “There, he just needs to rest for a few hours and he’ll be almost as good as new. Thank the spirits his people heal quickly.” Aura let out another breath, wiping her bloody hands on her dress and added, “I need a drink.” 

She looked at Marianne and nodded. “I’m going to give you something to drink, then I want you to lay down with him. He’ll be out for an hour at least, and so will you.” 

Marianne nodded numbly, a small voice inside her telling herself she should argue, but she didn’t have the will to do so right now. 

Aura turned her attention to Kenia who looked pale, but the little girl asked in a small voice. “Will he be all right?” 

Aura nodded with a gentle smile. “Yes, he’ll be fine. Come on dear, you can help me make some tea and we’ll find some cookies. You need some rest too.” 

Marianne slid off Bog to lie down beside him. She reached out to stroke his face and before she could stop herself, she burst into tears. 

At some point her grandmother returned with some warm tea. Marianne only took a few sips before she fell asleep next to Bog, snuggled close against him, her lips and nose pressed against his shoulder. 

* 

Roland stumbled out of the forest and fell to his knees. 

He heard a scream followed by someone dropping down next to him. “Roland! By all the spirits, what happened?” 

Roland looked over to see one of Lancaster farm’s many milkmaids, blonde, full bosom, peach-like skin. He knew he had bedded her, but he struggled to recall her name for a few seconds, then it came to him. 

“I was attacked by a monster Mila...a horrible monster…” Roland groaned and fake collapsed into her arms. 

Mila wrapped her arms around him and screamed for help. 

Roland smiled, keeping his eyes closed. 

* 

Roland was brought into the farmhouse of the Lancasters who were a fairly wealthy family, not as wealthy as Marianne’s family, but they did well enough. The man had a pretty daughter named Sophia and he had plenty of pretty and willing milkmaids like Mila. 

At the moment Roland was feeling pretty good. He had been drugged up with milk of the poppy and he had Lancaster’s pretty daughter sitting on his other side holding his hand, her dress nearly spilling out her breasts. Roland grinned and stared at the young woman’s breasts while she blushed. 

The local doctor, Mr. Silas Manster, was tending to Roland’s wounds. The old man frowned as he finished stitching up Roland’s side. 

“What kind of creature attacked you again?” Manster asked as he started to place bandages over the wounds on Roland’s side. He had already attended the wounds on Roland’s face. Those had been 

the first one’s Roland wanted attending. The doctor had told him there was nothing to be done; he was going to have scars. The news had infuriated Roland until Sophia had told him that women enjoyed men with scars, it showed their bravery and she believed that Roland was still the most handsome man in the village. Roland was still angry about his beautiful face being marked, but once he had killed the monsters, and that witch, he would marry Marianne and use her family’s money to find a real healer, unlike old Silas, one that could fix his face and restore his former beauty. Until then, if these simple girls found his scars attractive, then he could get by. 

“It was this monster...half wolf, half man,” Roland explained with a scowl creasing his features. 

Silas frowned. “Half wolf? Are you sure?” 

Roland turned his attention away from Sophia’s breasts to glare at the old man. “You doubt me?” 

Silas stood up and started to clean up. “No, but...I’ve known a vargr or two in my day and never found them violent until provoked.” 

Roland hissed, pushing himself up. “What do you mean you’ve known those creatures?” 

Silas paled under the other man’s glowering and shook his head. “I mean to say, I’ve heard stories…” 

“Well your fucking stories are lies, old man. Those monsters are dangerous, vicious things. They’ll come into our homes and kill our parents, take our women, and eat our babies if we let them!” 

Sophia gasped, her eyes wide with real fear. 

Roland smiled, his voice soft and deadly. “I need to see the mayor. We need to do something about those creatures plaguing our woods. Those creatures and other unnatural things I have had the misfortune of seeing.” 

Silas gathered his bag and stepped back from Roland before he said. “How do you propose to do that? The forest is deep and dark. They could be anywhere.” 

Roland sneered. “That old witch knows where they are.” 

Sila's voice was soft with shock. “Aura?” 

Roland’s sneer deepened. “Yes. We make her tell us where they are…” 

* 

Marianne woke to the gentle stroking of fingers through her hair. She smiled and snuggled closer only waking when she felt lips pressed against her hair. 

Her eyes came open. Her face was pressed against Bog’s chest while his good arm was around her shoulders. He was stroking her hair, the tips of his claws brushing against her scalp as he stroked her hair. 

Marianne pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked down at Bog anxiously. “How are you feeling?” 

He grinned at her. Though the room was dark, she could see his blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. “I feel much better,” he said softly. “Your grandmother is an amazing healer.” 

Marianne let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “I was so worried.” 

Bog murmured and gently stroked her hair again. “I’m all right, Marianne. My kind heal fast.” 

“How long have we been asleep?” she wondered out loud, laying her head back down against his chest. When he spoke, his voice rumbled deeply. “I think only a couple of hours, long enough for night to fall. I should probably go soon. I need to bring others here to protect your grandmother.” 

“Roland was hurt, so I don’t think he will come back soon,” Mariane said, but Bog shook his head. “No, he will. I expect him to be here by afternoon at the very latest. He is fueled by rage and hate. He won’t let this stand…” Bog’s voice was deep and growling with anger. She could feel the shudder through his body. “He’ll want to inflict pain and suffering as quickly as he can.” 

“Maybe I can go to the village and try to dissuade…” Marianne began, but Bog growled again, his body tensing. “No...no...please...don’t...if you go, you’ll just be walking into his hands…” 

Marianne laid a hand against his chest. “Very well, I won’t go.” 

She felt Bog relax, and a moment later he reached up to cup the side of her face with his other hand (she noticed he moved it without any difficulty). She felt the gentle touch of his claws against her skin as he drew her down to him. His warm breath tickled her lips. 

“Stay with me,” he asked in a tone that sounded wanton. “You could come with me, meet my mother.” 

Marianne felt her heart skip a beat. He wanted her to meet his mother? She brushed her nose brushing against his nose as she whispered. “I would love to meet your mother.” 

Bog smiled. “She’ll love you,” he assured her. “You’re strong like her.” 

Marianne smiled and whispered. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Thank you,” Bog whispered before he guided her mouth down to press his lips to hers. Marianne felt nerve endings in particularly interesting parts of her body spring to life. Warmth rolled over her, her nipples tightened, and her groin ached. The sensation intensified when Bog’s tongue slid across her lips. She opened her mouth, deepened their kiss; their tongues glided together, her body burning with each stroke of his tongue against hers. 

Bog growled, a deep rumble in his chest that she felt roll over her, touching her in places that made her ache even more for him. The feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, and the warmth from his body did things to her, but his hands on her made her want to do things with him. She wanted to feel her body naked against his; the urge felt overpowering. When he broke away from the kiss only to lick her throat in a long, slow slide of his tongue, Marianne thought she might die if she didn’t have him. 

His hands slid down to her shoulder, then along her arm. She moved, pushing herself up and taking up her place over him, once more straddling him. She reached down to caress his face, sliding her fingers into his thick hair, kissing him slowly and with a burning need. Bog reached up to caress her waist, then down to her hips. He grasped her hips tighter to pull her down on him. 

Marianne felt his erection between her legs. She ground herself down on him, all thoughts of his wound, of this being her grandmother’s bed, or that they had known each other less than a day flit away as she let her desire for this vargr take over. She didn’t just want him, she wanted to give herself to him, heart, body and soul. 

Bog groaned when she pressed down on him. His need for her overpowered his conscious thoughts. She was his and he was hers, even if she ultimately rejected him, he belonged to her no matter what the future brought. His heart was hers. He thrust his hips up a little, meeting the sweet press of her body on him. The heat from between her legs spread down to him, as if her desire and her spirit flowed into him, and he shuddered. 

Marianne gasped, feeling the press his clothing bound erection between her legs, and she felt the sweet pressure through her entire body. Her kisses became more frantic, desperate; she needed to touch Bog and be touched by him. 

Bog growled pleasurably again and slid his hands up to cup her breasts while they kissed. 

The feel of his large hands encompassing Marianne’s breasts made her groan in pleasure and frustration both. She delighted in his touch, but wanted to feel him skin to skin. She brushed his hair back, kissing him harder still while pressing herself against him. She felt Bog’s claws grip her tunic, and she knew he could rip it off of her. She wanted him to tear the fabric, to expose her skin. 

She needed to feel his tongue against her nipples… 

“Oh good, you’re both awake.” 

Marianne had never moved so quickly. She threw herself off Bog fast enough that she bounced when she hit her grandmother’s mattress. Bog made a soft, almost pained groan. 

Aura came into the room with a tray, Kenia following behind her with a candle held in one hand. 

Aura smiled holding the tray up. “I have some rabbit stew and some of my special herbal tea that will help your wound heal even faster Bog, and it’ll help you as well, granddaughter.” 

Aura came around to Marianne’s side of the bed. “Sit up.” 

Marianne did what she was told while Kenia used the candle to light a few others. 

Bog sat up as Aura set the tray down on Marianne’s lap. “I need to leave tonight, Aura. I’m going to go and get some help to protect your home. I fear Roland will come back here.” 

Aura frowned at Bog’s words. Marianne knew her grandmother was stubborn and she feared that she would refuse, but her grandmother surprised her. “You’re probably right. Roland is dangerous. Thank you Bog. Will Marianne be going with you?” 

Marianne blushed as she nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good, you can meet Griselda. She’ll like you. You should take Kenia home too,” Aura said as she pulled a chair from the corner of her room and sat. 

Kenia had finished with the candles and was sitting on Bog’s side of the bed where Bog was sticking his claw in his bowl of stew, spearing the tomatoes and feeding them to the little wolf girl who ate them with pleasure. 

Kenia made a face when Aura said she should be taken home, though she was clearly confused about what she should argue about--going home? But if she went home that meant she could run with Bog and Marianne. Though staying here meant she could help if the evil man came back and protect Grammie Aura. 

In the end she simply pouted and said nothing as Bog smiled at her and fed her another tomato. “Don’t look upset Kenia,” Bog whispered. “Your mother and father must be worried about you.” 

Kenia nodded. Even though she realized Bog spoke truly, she still felt and looked slightly unhappy. 

Bog smiled. “Here.” He fed the little wolf girl another tomato. 

Aura laughed. “Oh now you need to eat, stop feeding that wild little thing. She already ate three bowls of the stew.” 

Kenia giggled and wrinkled her nose. “I’m always hungry.” 

“I know you are dear.” Aura laughed softly. “Why don’t we let them eat and you can help me pack a bag with some goodies in it for you…” Aura stood up. “I just so happen to have a fresh batch of honey biscuits…” 

Kenia clapped her hands, and a hungry growl followed from the child as she took Aura’s hand and followed her out. 

Marianne chuckled. “She’s sweet.” 

Bog nodded dipping his spoon into his stew. “She is. I need to get her home, not only to get her out of Roland’s sights, but she hasn’t yet mourned the loss of Wolfgrim. She needs her parents for that.” 

Marianne swallowed her own bit of stew. “Who was Wolfgrim?” 

Bog stirred his stew. “Wolfgrim was her feywolf...like a pet, but not. They’re smarter than regular animals...it’s hard to explain, but they had been together since the day she was born. She seems to be taking his death well, but she must be hurting deep down. She needs to be home with her family.” 

Marianne nodded. She didn’t understand completely, but she though she did on some level...after her mother died… 

She took another bite of stew. “How long will it take to find your people?” 

“Not long,” he said with a smirk. “You can ride on my back.” He took a large bite, but then nearly knocked his bowl over when his knees hit the tray and growled because Marianne yelped. “WHAT?” 

Bog turned to look at her with accusing blue eyes, his mouth full of stew. “What was that about?!” 

“Ride on your back?” Marianne gasped at him. 

Bog shrugged, swallowing at the same time. “It would be faster. You could never keep up with Kenia and me.” 

“But…” Marianne wanted to protest, but he was probably right. It made sense that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the two of them. “What about your shoulder?” she asked but Bog shrugged it off. “My kind heals quicker than humans and with your grandmother’s help, in a week or so I’ll be nearly back to myself. I can accept a little pain to carry you.” His voice was soft as he looked over at her. 

They stared at each other. Bog reached over and gently brought his hand up to touch her chin with his knuckles. They leaned into each other, drawn toward each other. 

Bog’s unusual blue eyes met hers, only dropping down to gaze at her lips before locking with her eyes again. His groin was tight, hot, uncomfortable. He wanted to run his hands over her body, to feel her soft skin, to feel her hands on him, touching him, stroking him while he did the same with her. He wanted to lick her skin, lose himself in her scent, to just be with her. 

Marianne’s heart skipped a beat, her own gaze dropping to his lips. The hint of fangs that she could see made goosebumps prickle over her skin as she imagined the press of his fangs lightly into her skin.The thought of him biting her made her body flood with the need to have him, the need to have Bog drag his fangs against her flesh… 

“All right, Kenia is ready. You two need to finish eating.” Aura bustled into the room again, stopping and frowning at the two of them before she added. “None of that in my bed. I swear I leave you two alone for any time at all and you’re both acting like you’re in heat…” She tilted her head and muttered loudly. “Well, I suppose you are at that.” 

“GRAMMIE!” Marianne yelled, her face turning red. 

Aura smiled at her and winked. “Dear, I was young and in love once, I know exactly how it is. You think it's bad now? Wait until you’ve had a taste of him. You’ll be worse.” 

Marianne groaned using her hands to cover her face while Bog tried to hide his embarrassment by shoving more stew into his mouth as if it were his sole mission in life. 

Aura put her hands on her hips. “Now hurry up. There is a good moon tonight. Marianne, I expect you to eat all of that. Now come on.” 

Aura turned and walked out. 

Bog blushed glancing sideways at Marianne. “We probably should finish eating before she comes in again.” 

Marianne giggled softly, but quickly followed suit, eating her stew, though her cheeks continued to blaze bright red. 

* 

Half an hour later they all stood outside looking up at the bright moon that could be seen through the trees. 

Aura rubbed her lips together. “I’ll put a few wards up. They should warn me if anyone is coming and I have a couple of traps I can spring...just in case.” 

Marianne frowned. She had the basket on her back that she had worn with her, but this time her grandmother had filled the basket with some bread, salted meat, and some blankets for Bog’s people. “Are you sure I shouldn’t stay?” 

Aura smiled and reached up to pat her granddaughter on the cheek. “No, you should go. Griselda will need to meet you. I’ll be fine--promise.” 

Kenia rushed over and wrapped her arms around Aura, her face buried against the older woman’s chest. Aura smiled and hugged the little wolf girl back. “You be good for Bog and Marianne, all right?” 

Kenia nodded silently before stepping back. “Can I come see you after the bad man is gone?” 

“Of course you can.” Aura laughed, reaching out to ruffle the little girl’s already ruffled hair. “I would be upset if you didn’t.” 

Kenia smiled brightly. 

Aura turned to Bog. “Rest when you need to, don’t push it. The herbs in your system will help dull the pain, but they will not last forever. I know you heal quick, but it won’t matter how quick if you mess that arm up.” 

Bog nodded. “I’ll rest when it starts to bother me, I promise.” 

Aura turned to her granddaughter. “Make sure he does, Marianne. He’s stubborn, he’ll ignore the pain and push himself to his limits.” 

Marianne nodded. “I will Grammie, though I still think carrying me is a bad idea.” She looked pointedly at Bog’s bandaged shoulder. Within the last hour he was already moving the arm better, but it still worried her to know he would have to strain himself. 

“I know dear. Ideally he wouldn’t use that arm for a couple of days, but Bog and Kenia can run faster than a human, and even with his injured shoulder, you would never keep up with them. Just when you sense him getting tired, make him stop.” She pulled Marianne into her arms and held her tightly. “Take care of each other,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting for you to come back.” 

Marianne hugged her grandmother in return. “You be careful until we return, and I will.” 

Aura whispered. “He’s a good man, a good vargr. You two will be good together.” 

Marianne blushed and whispered. “Thank you, but...” 

Aura made a face and interrupted her granddaughter. “No buts, don’t let things like foolish human conventions stop you from being in love with him.” 

Marianne relaxed in her grandmother’s arms and whispered. “I won’t.” 

“Good.” Aura stepped back, holding Marianne by the shoulders. “I love you, you stubborn girl.” 

“Love you too Grammie.” 

Aura turned to Bog, putting her arms out. The tall vargr grinned as he bent down and wrapped his arms around the older woman. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Aura whispered. “Just promise to take care of my granddaughter for all your days.” 

Bog’s voice was soft and serious. “I will.” 

“Good.” She hugged him tight a moment longer and stepped back. “Very well then. You need to go so you can get back. Be careful and tell Griselda I’m waiting for that rematch in our Flor card game. I plan on winning this time.” 

Bog chuckled. “I will.” 

Bog turned to Marianne. “Ready?” 

Frowning, Marianne nodded. “I think so.” 

Bog gave her a smile and crouched down. She took a breath and climbed onto his back, trying to be careful as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his waist. Bog hooked his arms around her legs as he stood. She had known he was tall, very tall, but when he stood up with her on his back, Marianne gasped. It was like seeing a completely different world. 

Bog smiled over his shoulder at her. She could see pain etched into the corner of his eyes, but his smile was still geniune. “Ready?” 

She nodded. 

Bog looked down at Kenia who nodded with a feral little grin. 

Marianne thought she was ready for Bog to run, but she realized as he took off that she had no real idea what she had expected. He moved with such speed and grace that she immediately lost her breath. 

She was clearly not prepared.


	5. Mates

Marianne held on tightly to Bog as he moved through the forest. He ducked and weaved through the trees, moving with a speed and grace that left her breathless, never tripping, never slowing down as he ducked under thick tree branches, leaped over deadfalls, and avoided thickets of brambles, the woods zipping past them in the darkness. She looked to the side to see Kenia, the moonlight peaking through the trees to make her little head glow. The little wolf girl was running on all fours, keeping pace with Bog while Bog ran on two legs. Marianne couldn’t know for sure, but she sensed that Bog wasn’t moving as quickly as he could so that Kenia could keep up. She could only imagine how fast Bog could run if he was free to go all out. 

She smiled, her grip on Bog tightening a little as she pressed her lips against his back, and the scent of his hair and skin rolled over her. Bog glanced back once at her, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. He adjusted his hold on her legs, a crooked smile on his lips but he said nothing, turning his attention back to running through the woods. Marianne smiled brightly, she would love to be able to run through the woods like this, to have such power and freedom. It was exhilarating and beautiful. 

Bog was beautiful. 

Marianne pressed her cheek to Bog’s shoulder. 

Bog smiled, feeling the warmth of Marianne's breath against his skin, feeling and hearing the beat of her heart against his back. Just having her close brought him a sense of peace. He adjusted his hold on her, his shoulder screaming at him to put her down, but he pushed the pain aside. It was still dull enough from the herbs Aura had given him that he could ignore it. Hopefully with his own healing, the pain would recede to the point he could really ignore it instead of simply telling himself he had to. 

His sharp eyes easily picked up the quickest and best route to take; the darkness did nothing to diminish his eyesight, except to dull colors somewhat. He was excited to be bringing Marianne with him, though he hated the reason for bringing her to his mother. Bog loved the fact that his mother was getting to meet her, the woman he had bonded with, the woman he hoped to make his mate. 

Bog just hoped that his mother would like Marianne despite the fact that she wasn’t vargr. He frowned as leapt over a small rivulet; he hadn’t really thought of that until just now. His mother had been trying to help him find a mate for him for years now, always bringing young women to meet him and whenever they met up with another clan his mother would find all the available females and parade them in front of him like they were fresh venison. 

Bog frowned at the memories, his cheeks turning red. He wasn’t what any of those females wanted, and they weren’t what he wanted. There had been one, a long time ago that he had thought might be the one for him, but she had crushed his heart before heading off with the alpha of another clan. Since that embarrassment, he had kept his heart protected despite his mother’s constant nagging to mate. He knew she wanted grandbabies, cubs to carry on the family name, but mostly she wanted her only son to be happy. 

Bog knew that Marianne was his mate, the woman that would make him happy, the woman that he would want to father cubs with, grow old with… 

Bog pressed his lips together and tried to focus on running. Right now he had to worry about Roland and Marianne’s grandmother, then he could worry about his future, he just had to make sure he and his people had a future for him to worry about. 

* 

Griselda stood in front of the large fire that burned in the central pit of the vargr’s small encampment, (the encampment had a few wooden structures, easily taken down and moved, along with a few underground dens) her clawed hands held out to the flames. The evening had grown colder as the moon rose, or maybe it was just because she was old. She smirked letting the fire warm her hands and body. The rabbit fur-lined leather tunic she wore kept her reasonably warm, but she was finding the nights were colder and made her old bones ache in a way they hadn’t years ago. And here she was, getting old and still with no grandbabies, no little wolf cubs running around nibbling at her ankles and howling at the moon. 

She sighed, her worry for her son once more at the forefront of her thoughts. 

Bog had gone hunting yesterday, but he had yet to return. She wasn’t really worried about him, the boy knew how to take care of himself. He was tall, thin, but deadly. She knew her boy could handle anything in the woods that tried to hurt him, she just wished he didn’t go off by himself so much; especially now that they had a few new female vargr that had joined the clan after the last vargr group had passed through here, leaving a few of their unattached females behind and taking a few of their clan’s free females with them. 

Griselda had hoped the new females would attract Bog’s attention, that maybe one of them would be his mate, but Bog had once more shown no interest. She sighed again. That boy was going to be the death of her, she thought. She was just thinking of retiring to her den when she heard movement out in the darkness of the forest. 

She glanced over at Rona and Farrar, Kenia’s parents. Rona was nursing her new cub, a little boy named Ruud, born only weeks ago. They were waiting for their daughter Kenia to come back. She had gone off with Wolfgrim, which wasn’t unusual, though she should have been back by now. If she didn’t return by dawn Farrar was going to go looking for her. Kenia and Wolfgrim had been running off into the woods alone more and more since Ruud’s birth. Griselda smiled a little. She suspected that Kenia might have gone after Bog, the little girl wanting to prove to her parents what a big wolf she was, and she admired Bog a great deal. Griselda wouldn’t be surprised to see the three of them return home together. 

The sound of movement in the forest was deliberate, she could tell, signaling to the clan that someone was approaching. It was polite, and the best way to stop a visitor from getting themselves killed by accident. 

She turned to wait, as did the few vargr who were by the fire, all of them watching as Bog, along with Kenia and a strange woman who held her son’s hand dressed in a blood red cloak, walked into the fire’s light. 

Kenia saw her parents and raced to them, throwing herself into her father’s arms. “Papa!!” Kenia yelled happily, but almost immediately broke down into sobs. 

Farrar’s expression had gone from happy to see his daughter to surprise at her sobs, his eyes turning to Bog, but a growl quickly rumbled in his chest at the sight of Marianne. 

The other vargr who were in the camp all growled, eyes glowing, each of them sniffing the air, knowing instantly that this woman with Bog was a human from sight and scent. 

Bog snarled back at everyone, his posture immediately going on the defensive as he pulled the human woman with him behind him. The woman looked frightened, but Griselda noticed that she didn’t back down, standing straight and tall behind Bog. 

Griselda put her hands up. “All right everyone--that’s enough!” 

The growling lessened, but was still there, just a low menacing sound in the background. 

Griselda smiled at her son, though her smile fell a little when she saw that her son had been hurt. His shoulder was bandaged, which meant whatever had happened, he had been taken care of, but the thought that her boy had been hurt set like a stone in her stomach. 

Griselda turned her attention to the woman with her son. “Bog, you brought a guest?” 

Bog frowned at his mother, his bright blue eyes looking at everyone before he said. “I call a moot.” 

* 

A few minutes later Bog, along with Marianne, his mother, Kenia--who was chewing on a bone with all the enthusiasm of a happy puppy--along with her parents and a few others of their clan were sitting in one of the larger underground dens. Marianne was surprised at how large the male vargr were, especially compared to Bog. 

(Bog was taller than anyone here, and much slimmer, but he looked just as strong, if not stronger than any of the males, at least as far as Marianne was concerned. Most of them were dressed in loincloths, simple tunics or topless she noticed, but no one seemed concerned about their lack of clothing). 

There was a small fire in the middle of the chamber, along with a few bedrolls made from animal skins and furs, baskets holding small apples, carrots, and various other wild fruits, nuts, and vegetables along with dried herbs. Marianne assumed that this room was a communal room for meetings and storage, or whatever Bog’s people needed. There was a large pot in the middle of the fire from which the rich smell of rabbit stew, along with some wild potatoes, onions and carrots, drifted over the small group. 

Marianne sat close to Bog, their arms and legs touching. She felt nervous; the way his people looked at her made her a little on edge, though at least the growling had stopped. Their looks were appraising, curious, but she could tell that there was not really any hostility being directed at her, but it was still a little unnerving to be around so many fangs and claws. 

Bog whispered, his lips close enough to her ear that his warm breath brushed her hair sending shivers down her spine. “Don’t worry, no one is going to hurt you.” 

Marianne smiled up at him. “I know. I just feel…” She frowned. “...like I’m bringing trouble to them.” 

Bog reached out and laid his clawed hand on her knee. “You are not trouble Marianne. You, like your grandmother, are a good person.” He gave her a smile that Marianne felt burn through her blood. Bog moved his hand from her knee, reaching up to stroke her jaw. “You are…” He swallowed his voice dropping lower still, mingled with a sort of purring growl in his chest. “...you are wonderful Marianne.” 

She blushed deeply, laying her hand on his knee. “You are wonderful too Bog.” 

Seeing this beast of a man blush made Marianne smile, her heart skip a beat, she could feel her connection to him growing stronger with every moment she was with him. 

Marianne smiled. Dawn was going to love it when she came home with Bog. 

Bog dropped his hand to her knee once more and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

Marianne scooted a little closer to him, looking around the room at the small group of people. They all had glowing eyes like Bog, though Marianne noted not one of them had blue eyes. Each of them sported dangerous claws, fangs, and all of them were fairly large people, even the women looked sturdy enough to fight a bear. 

Bog’s mother was a small woman, shorter than the average vargr, with wild red hair, and small dark eyes that glowed with an amber light, but other than that when the woman smiled at her 

Marianne immediately thought of a kind, warm woman, who loved her son dearly. 

A mother. 

Before Bog told them about Roland and about Marianne, Griselda insisted on passing out bowls filled with stew. The vargr also had flat bread along with clean fresh water to drink. Once everyone had their food in hand, Bog was permitted to tell them about Roland and the threat to them and her grandmother while they ate. 

Marianne was tense, she could feel her body held stiff as she waited to see if these people, who had no reason to help her or her grandmother decided what they would do. 

After Bog was finished telling everyone in the room what had happened, Rona said softly. “Aura has been a great help to us. She has helped us with our ill and injured, helped with the birth of cubs and she has always made sure we have food even though she knows we can feed ourselves.” The young mother looked at everyone with a gentle smile on her face. “She has been a friend when we didn’t have one. I think we should go.” She looked around one more time. “I will go no matter what is decided. She had cared for Kenia like her own grandchild and she helped with Ruud who had a fever we couldn’t fight. I am going.” 

Kenia, sitting snuggled between her parents with her bone, spoke up her young voice high and sweet. “I love Grammie Aura a lot and I love Marianne too.” She grinned across the fire at Marianne, then added loudly. “She’s gonna mate with Bog!” 

Marianne and Bog both turned bright red. 

This statement was followed by chuckles around the room. 

Griselda turned to look at her son with wide eyes and a smirk on her lips. 

Bog dropped his head and hid his eyes, refusing to look at his mother. Luckily attention was drawn away from Bog and Marianne by another vargr. This one was one of the largest Marianne had seen. Bog was a good head and shoulders taller than this male, but the vargr was thick with a barrel chest and large gut to match, a gut that Marianne had no doubt was all muscle. His hair was also thicker, covering more of his body than Bog and his pointed ears were tipped in fuzzy dark hair. 

He looked at Marianne, his eyes glowing a dark yellow. She tried not to show that the vargr’s intense gaze made her nervous. Marianne did her best to hold his stare until the big man smiled showing ragged, fanged teeth. 

Bog leaned close to her and whispered. “That’s Brutus, he is one of my cousins.” 

Marianne nodded her understanding while watching the large man, who wore only a loincloth. 

“I agree, we should go and help Aura.” He looked around. “We know she would do anything for us and has...she has given us a home, healed our sick, taught us to heal ourselves and helped bring our cubs into the world...this woman…” He pointed at Marianne. “...is her granddaughter and from what Bog has said she carries those same attributes that we admire in Aura.” He grinned at Bog as he said. “I also trust Bog, he would never bring a stranger into our homes. If Bog brought this woman then she is worthy of our trust, our protection and our friendship.” He nodded his big head. “So, tomorrow, we go and protect Aura’s house from the woodsman.” He shrugged. “Aura would do the same for us.” 

There were murmurs of agreement all around. 

Marianne felt a weight lift off her shoulders. 

Bog smiled at her and lightly nudged her with his shoulder. She smiled and nudged him back. They both gazed into each other's eyes, their bodies drawn together, leaning against each other as if they couldn’t bear to not be touching. 

Griselda lifted a fuzzy eyebrow at her son and this human girl, a smile playing across her lips. 

Maybe those cubs weren’t too far in the future after all. 

Half-breed cubs were fine with Griselda. Her son happy with a woman and a family was all she ever wanted for her only child. 

* 

The moot broke up for the night, with the decision being made that at least five vargr would accompany Bog and Marianne back in the morning, at first light. 

As the moot broke up Griselda stood and motioned for Bog and Marianne to follow her. Bog stood and took Marianne’s hand, their fingers lacing together as if they had done so often. 

As the three of them were heading for the doorway, Kenia rushed over to grab Marianne’s hand and tug on the human woman. 

“I want you to meet my little brother!” Kenia said happily. “He’s the most beautiful cub in the whole world!” Kenia said with a large smile on her little face. 

Marianne looked over at Bog and Griselda, but it was Griselda who nodded. “We’ll be waiting right outside for you.” 

Bog released her hand and Marianne smiled, her fingers brushing against Bog’s hand as Kenia grabbed her other hand and dragged her over to her parents who were just standing up, a sleeping baby in their arms. 

“Mummy, Daddy, this is Marianne. Marianne, that’s my mummy and daddy and my brother Ruud. I’m his protector.” The little vargr girl looked proud of herself. 

Rona smiled at Marianne, ducking her head in a little bow. “It’s a pleasure you meet you Marianne. Kenia has told us much about you.” 

Marianne blushed smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both as well.” 

“Isn’t my baby brother the cutest cub ever?!!” Kenia was causing her mother and father to chuckle as the little wolf girl tugged on Marianne’s arm trying to make her pay attention. Her father said in a soft voice. “Now Kenia, what did we say about interrupting?” 

Kenia made a face and muttered. “Only wolverines are rude, not little vargr.” 

“That’s right.” Farrar nodded, ruffling the little girl’s hair before turning back to Marianne. “Sorry about our daughter. She has more energy than she knows what to do with. We want to thank you as well. Kenia told us how you helped her. You will be a welcome addition to our clan.” 

Marianne looked slightly confused by what he said. Addition to the clan? 

But her attention was drawn to the baby as Rona held her son so Marianne could see him. 

Kenia hopped excitedly. “Isn’t he pretty?? He’s the best cub Mummy said, better than I was.” Kenia beamed and reached over to brush her claw gently against the baby’s chubby, furry cheek. 

The baby was furry all over, a soft peach fuzz of light colored hair on his body. Marianne could already see the pointed ears and the glowing green eyes as the baby cooed and made a grab for Kenia’s finger. 

“He’s beautiful,” Marianne said softly reaching down to lightly touch one of Ruud’s tiny clawed hands. 

Ruud reached out, wrapping a hand around her finger and staring up at her with bright green eyes, a beautiful baby smile on his little chubby face. 

Marianne felt a tug at her heart. Children were not something she thought about for herself, but looking at this little furry bundle made her suddenly wonder what a baby with Bog would look like. 

Kenia grinned up at Marianne and, as if sensing Marianne’s thoughts, whispered loudly in only the way a child can. “So are you and Bog going to have cubs soon? Can I babysit?” 

Marianne blushed every shade of red on the spectrum. 

* 

Outside, Griselda pulled her son aside to examine his bandaged arm while at the same time asking. “Mate? Did I hear Kenia correctly? Has something happened that I should know about?” 

Bog blushed every shade of red known to his mother. “I…” Bog licked his lips, rubbing the back of his neck with his large clawed hand. “Uh...I...yes...yes. I hope she will be...but nothing has happened yet between us.” Bog looked over at his mother while his cheeks burned. 

“So, you’ve not mated with her yet?” Griselda asked, causing her son to turn even redder as he shook his head. “No, no...nothing like that. Just a kiss.” 

Griselda blinked in surprise. She had never seen her son look as he did now. She had seen him blush a lot of times, but there was something different, a quality about him, something in his eyes, and in his scent. Her inquisitive frown turned into a smile of understanding as she asked. 

“Bog, are you in love with her?” 

Bog pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded silently. There was no point in denying how he felt about Marianne. He wanted her, not just to have sex (which he wanted so much that his body ached for her), but to be with her. He wanted a life together with Marianne. He could not imagine himself with anyone else other than Marianne. Even if they didn’t end up together, he would always be hers--there was no one else for him. If she rejected him completely, he would live his life out alone because his heart and soul belonged to the human woman now. 

Griselda’s smile widened. She was about to ask another question when there was movement at the doorway, a small, delicate hand moved the leather curtain aside and Marianne came back out, saving Bog from further embarrassment with his mother. 

Marianne smiled. “Sorry. Kenia wanted me to see her baby brother, who is the cutest ba..I mean cub, I’ve ever seen.” 

Griselda laughed. “Kenia is a proud big sister. Now...you two need a good night's sleep.” Griselda turned and started to walk, a plan forming in her mind. “I think Marianne…” She turned to glance over her shoulder to make sure the two of them were following her. “...I think you should stay in Bog’s den tonight.” 

Bog’s eyes widened, his ears turning red. “Ah, uh…” 

Marianne sighed in relief. “Thank you. Your people are very nice and welcoming, but I don’t know if I would feel comfortable sharing someone's sleeping quarters.” 

“Understandable.” Griselda acknowledged with only the slightest of grins tugging at her lips, showing a hint of her fangs. 

Bog carried himself tightly, his shoulders slightly hunched. “If you want, we could find you a tent so you don’t have to sleep with anyone.” 

Marianne glanced sideways at him. “Do you want me to stay with you?” 

Bog blushed. “No...I mean yes, I would like that. I just don’t want you to feel like you must.” 

Marianne took his hand, wrapping her fingers with his. “So would I--like that, that is. Besides, I don’t think I could sleep alone in a strange place.” 

Bog blushed to the tips of his pointed ears as he looked down at her. 

Griselda barely contained her delight, grinning broadly. 

* 

The entrance to Bog’s den was surprisingly small. Even Marianne would have to duck to get inside. The entrance of his den looked like a small cave, but she could see a sort of rise behind the cave opening, along with a strange shadow that looked almost conical in shape. 

Griselda stopped right outside from the small opening. “Do either of you need anything? Food, drink? More furs for sleeping?” 

Bog worried at his bottom lip, then asked. “A few more furs would be nice. I don’t think I have enough for two people.” 

Griselda smiled. “I’ll be right back. You two go on inside.” 

Griselda hurried off, leaving them alone. 

Bog looked nervous, hunching his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck before he said in a quiet voice. “Ah...just, ah...follow me.” 

Marianne nodded and watched as Bog got down on all fours and crawled through the entrance. Marianne grinned and crawled in after him. 

* 

When she came to the end of the small entrance tunnel, she saw a small set of steps carved into the stone, leading down. Marianne took the steps down, looking around with wide eyes just as Bog was lighting a few candles, and Marianne stopped with one foot on the last step, her mouth falling open. 

The inside was a cave but not a cave in a traditional sense, but something magical. The ceiling was just tall enough for Bog to stand up straight and avoid scraping his head. The walls were smooth and shiny and there was a large bed carved from the stone piled with thick furs and pillows. Rather than a fire pit, a fireplace had been carved into the wall along with what looked like a bath carved into the floor just off to the left of the fireplace. The room held a stone table, chairs, fur rugs on the floor, and candles that sat in carved alcoves. Hanging from the ceiling were dried flowers and herbs that filled the large chamber with a sweet smell. The underground chamber looked both simple and luxurious. 

Bog smiled shyly at Marianne. “I started this when I was sixteen winters old, carving it myself, expanding it. It was already a small cave, but I expanded it over time.” 

He turned around pointing. “My mother taught me how to make the feather pillows and I made the rugs myself too…” He bit his bottom lip. “I made everything here...I hope it’s comfortable…” 

Marianne murmured with wide eyes. “Oh Bog...this is amazing…” 

“Really?” Bog asked shyly. “ Ah, you can take a bath, if you like. I can bring water from the river--it's not too far from here--and I have a system for heating the water quickly…” 

“Oh no...not right now, but thank you.” She smiled. “I’m just amazed...this is so beautiful.” 

Bog smiled and his blue eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I’m glad you like it.” 

Marianne looked around taking in little details, such as the fact the Bog had carved images into the stone that ran along the top of the walls, wolves dancing in the moonlight along with other animals: deer, rabbits, birds, foxes. The details were all so beautiful, delicate and intricate. In the flickering light of the candles, it looked as if the figures were moving. 

“You did this all yourself?” she asked and Bog nodded. 

“Yes, took a long time, but…” He shrugged. 

“I hope you’re both decent!” 

The sound of Griselda’s voice drifted into the cave followed a few seconds later by his mother crawling in, several furs folded over one arm. 

She smiled as she stood up on the top stair. Bog hurried over to help his mother up. “I keep telling Bog he needs to expand the entrance, but he has yet to do it.” Griselda laughed handing the folded furs to Bog. 

“Isn’t this place beautiful?” she asked Marianne as she brushed off her knees and took the steps down to the floor. 

“It’s amazing,” Marianne murmured with another look around, still in awe. 

Griselda nodded. “My boy is gifted, like his father. When we were first mated, Bog’s father Brec had carved a cave for me, the most beautiful place.” She sighed softly. “Bog was born there, I really hated to leave it.” She shook her head dismissing the small wave of sadness that tried to engulf her at the thought of her husband. 

“Anyway, I brought you a shift for sleeping as well.” Griselda motioned with her head toward Bog who had unfolded the bundle she had brought, as if on cue finding the thin, sleeveless linen dress among the furs. 

Bog blushed as he held the thin dress up. The light from the candle shone right through it. “I thought you might sleep more comfortably in that than your clothes,” Griselda said with a smile. 

“Well, you two should get some sleep, as you’ll be leaving at first light.” 

Griselda walked over to Bog and pulled her son into her arms for a tight embrace. Marianne smiled, looking at them. Griselda was so tiny next to her son who towered over her. Bog bent himself over as he hugged his mother, kissing the top of her head. 

“Sleep well Mum,” he said softly. 

“You too sweetheart,” Griselda murmured. She released her son and came over surprising Marianne as she pulled the younger woman into a tight embrace. “And you too, sleep well.” 

Marianne smiled hugging Griselda in return. “Thank you.” 

Griselda whispered against Marianne’s ear. “I just want you to know that I approve of you. You will make a good mate for my boy.” 

Marianne stiffend for only a moment before she surprised herself by answering. “I hope so.” 

Griselda made a small sound and hugged Marianne a little tighter before letting her go. Marianne could swear there were tears in the older woman’s eyes before she smiled and headed for the entrance. 

“I’ll see you off in the morning. Just come to my den--I’ll have breakfast waiting.” Griselda waved before ducking out of the cave. 

* 

After his mother left, Bog blushed and handed Marianne the shift. “I’ll just ah, turn my back so you can change. I’ll take the floor and…” 

Marianne took the shift, but her mouth was set in a frown. “We can share the bed, it’s large enough.” 

Bog frowned at her. “I…” 

Marianne decided not to say anything as she tossed the shift down onto the bed and started to remove her red cloak. 

Bog’s blue eyes opened wider and he quickly turned around. 

Marianne removed her clothing, folding her tunic, cloak and pants, and placed them on a chair with her boots and sword before she slipped into the shift, wearing only her panties. It felt good to be free of her clothing, and at the same time she realized just how tired she was. 

She turned around just as Bog was removing his pants. He had already removed his boots and she saw that his toes were as wickedly clawed as his hands, but her eyes widened as he pulled the pants down his legs. He was wearing nothing underneath. His rear was tight, perfectly shaped to her eyes--like a peach, she thought with a lift of her eyebrows--and the line of hair along his spine faded at his tailbone. Marianne found herself staring. His legs were muscular and the dark fur or hair that covered them looked...she rubbed her lips together as she imagined his legs tangled with hers. 

Bog picked up some cloth that was lying on the bed and wrapped it around himself, sliding it between his legs and around his waist. Marianne’s cheeks burned red as, when he brought the cloth between his legs, she caught a brief glimpse of his manhood. 

When he was just about done, Marianne quickly turned and tried to pretend that she had just finished dressing before she turned around to see Bog standing there, the candlelight dancing off his skin, and wearing only a loincloth. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, animalistic features and all. Her eyes traced the line of hair from his chest, down his stomach, and down to wear it disappeared into the loincloth. She felt a tightening in her gut, heat spreading through her and settling in her groin. Marianne licked her lips. 

Bog smiled at her, trying not to pay attention to the way the candlelight showed through the linen shift, highlighting her figure under the thin fabric. 

He turned and pulled the bed back. “Do you want me to leave a candle burning?” 

Marianne walked over and crawled into the bed. It felt surprisingly soft, she noted with a small sound. There was a thick layer of rabbit furs to cushion the bed and as she laid down, Marianne sank into the furs. “If you don’t mind, yes. It won’t be dangerous will it?” 

Bog shook his head. “No, it’ll be fine.” 

Marianne watched as the tall vargr walked around and blew out the candles, leaving one burning in an alcove. The effect was cozy, intimate, an oasis. 

Marianne scooted over as Bog climbed into the bed. “Are you sure about sharing the bed?” he asked. 

Marianne nodded rolling onto her side to face him, laying her head on her arm. “Yes.” 

Bog laid down and rolled onto his side, dropping his head onto his arm too. He smiled at her as he reached out to brush a claw along her cheek. 

They gazed at each other, Bog gently caressing her cheek, then along her jaw. They really didn’t need to talk, the thread that had bound them only tightened further as they gazed at each other. Marianne leaned toward him, all awkwardness fading away as she lost herself in his glowing eyes. 

Bog cupped the side of her neck, feeling his bashfulness once more falling away as he gazed at the woman he had fallen in love with, the woman whose scent had haunted him since the moment he inhaled her. His mate, his soul mate. 

Bog gently leaned into her, guiding her mouth to his lips. 

When their lips touched, Marianne felt that building warmth in her climb higher. His lips were soft and warm, this tongue gentle. She reached out, wrapping her arm around his waist, and spread her fingers to touch as much of his skin as she could. His skin felt soft, making Marianne want to rub her body against him. She pulled herself closer with a little groan of need, her hand gliding up and down his back, caressing his warm skin. Feeling the play of his muscles under his skin and the brush of fur against her fingertips made her catch her breath. 

Bog moved his mouth over hers, his tongue brushing against her short, blunt teeth, though he felt the slight points of her canines, just little baby points, but they still made him smile. He shifted more, pulling her close and rolling onto his back. Marianne came with him, sliding her body besides his, rising up on her elbow while her other hand continued to caress him, her fingers brushing the hair on his chest, her fingers curling into the the hair in an almost greedy fashion as he leaned up into his kiss, her lips never leaving his mouth. 

Reaching up to run his claws through her hair, Bog made a soft, purring growl that Marianne felt rumble over her breasts, sending a trickle of heat across her nipples where her breasts pressed against his chest. 

Their kissing deepened and heated them both up. Bog wrapped his arms around her, stroking his hands over her back, down along the curse of her spine, and to her rear. He cupped her rear, squeezing gently. His touch prompted Marianne to wrap one leg around his thigh, her knee coming up to gently press against the bulge in his loincloth, causing him to grunt and growl in pleasure. Marianne’s hand on his chest moved lower, caressing the line of his ribs before sliding along the tender skin of his belly. She felt his stomach muscles jump at her touch, but he didn’t stop her. She caressed his stomach where her fingers traced the line of hair, traveling along the line down his torso to where the line of hair disappeared into his loincloth. The skin of his stomach was soft, yet she could feel the muscles that made up his abdomen, firm and strong. She could feel the power in Bog’s body, the primal strength. 

She traced the edge of the cloth, feeling him growl pleasantly. She felt emboldened here in his cave. They were alone and she wanted--needed to touch him. It wasn’t just a desire, but an imperative. Her hand slid over the loincloth and she felt the bulge of him, hard and hot. She cupped him and squeezed gently, and the feeling of Bog in the palm of her hand made her shudder with pleasure. 

Her touch was like being stroked by a welcome fire. His groin ached, but when she cupped him and squeezed Bog growled louder, his hips thrusting into her touch. He had to tense himself, the urge to roll her over, to push her onto her back felt strong. He wanted to bite his way down her body, to bury his mouth against her sex, to lose himself in her scent, her taste, to lose himself in her, in everything that was Marianne. 

Kissing him slowly, her tongue stroked against his fangs as she squeezed him again and made him growl loudler, his body on fire for her. Bog struggled to hold himself back, but she was driving him nearly mad with want. Her scent filled his nostrils, he could tell how wet she was, how much she wanted him. Her body sent signals to him that he wanted to answer. 

He let her torture him a few more seconds before he gave in to his instincts and before Marianne knew what had happened Bog had flipped her onto her back, pressing her down with his body. He growled pleasantly again as he looked down at her, his blue eyes glowing in the dim light of the room, his growl vibrating through her. Marianne was beginning to pick out the difference in the tenor of his growls, when he was angry, fearful, lustful. She groaned when he growled, moving to lie between her legs, dragging his nose against her throat as he sniffed her skin just before dragging his teeth and lips along the front of her throat, then up to her mouth. 

Bog kissed her again, harder, pressing his groin against hers. Marianne gasped, feeling him press against the heat radiating from between her legs. He continued to press her into the furs, his mouth moving down from Marianne’s lips to her throat, his hips continuing to press into her with a slow rhythm of easing and pressing. The rapid beat of her heart settled between her legs as with each beat, Bog thrust against her. 

She closed her eyes with a groan, caressing his wide shoulders, brushing the back of his neck, spreading her legs wider for him as he licked her throat, biting softly, gently pressing his teeth against her skin, and all the while he made growling purrs in his chest. He traveled down to her breasts, rubbing his long pointed nose against the thin linen that lay over her breasts. He growled deeply, a pleasurable sound that vibrated through her entire being. Bog brushed his nose against her breast, biting at her nipple softly, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. 

Marianne gasped, arching her back when his teeth brushed her nipple, the linen between her skin and his mouth doing little to mute the pleasurable feeling as his hot breath tantalized her sensitive nipple and skin. Bog’s touch, his kisses, and his growling made pulses of delight roll through her body. 

She rubbed her feet against the back of his legs, which only made Bog growl a little louder, his hips pressing his bound erection against her. 

“I want…” Bog whispered, his voice strained. “I want to please you, I want to taste you.” He hissed, struggling for control. “Marianne…” He said her name with a trace of anguish, looking up at her from between his breasts, his blue eyes glowing in the diminished light of the room. 

Marianne stroked her fingers through his hair. She thought she knew what he wanted, her heart quickened at the idea as she whispered, “Yes.” 

Hearing her say yes made Bog growl deeply. He let his animal instincts take over, growling with pleasure as his hands moved down her body, pulling up the linen tunic as he slid down between her legs. (She didn’t know how much he struggled not to tear the cloth from her body.) 

Marianne shuddered, looking down, gasping in surprise when he shoved up her shift, his claws caressing her hips as he kissed her inner thigh, biting the tender skin gently, but with enough pressure that she felt his fangs against her skin (again Bog was fighting with himself not to simply tear away the obstacles in his path, to mate with Marianne as he knew his people did, but he wanted to go slowly, to give her a chance to stop him. But it was so, so difficult.) 

She shivered and groaned. “Bog...” 

The way she said his name with that broken, lust-filled shudder broke him. He pulled at her panties, his claws shredding them. He had never been with a woman, but with Marianne, he knew instinctively what to do and he followed his urges, letting desire, instinct, and need guide him. With the panties out of his way Bog gazed at her sex. Marianne was wet and glistening like a flower, and the hunger in him for her grew. He dragged his tongue over her with a loud groan, his senses filled with her scent, her taste on his tongue. He became surrounded by his Marianne. He growled and moved his mouth over her, wrapping his arms around her thighs, pulling her closer like a hungry animal. 

Marianne’s orgasm lanced through her in a burst of stars the moment Bog licked her, his growl vibrating through her entire body. She never dreamed of anyone doing what Bog was doing to her now, never knew a touch could be so delightful. His mouth between legs, kissing her, licking her, was too much. She grasped at the furs, struggling to find something to hold onto until she finally reached down with one hand, burying her fingers in the thick black hair on Bog’s head and cried out, thrusting her hips to meet his hungry mouth. 

Bog was lost in her, and his erection pulsed with the beat of both their hearts. He ached terribly, but at the same time he felt a deep satisfaction when he heard and tasted Marianne’s pleasure, knowing that she enjoyed what he was doing, that he had made her climax. 

Her cries filled the cave as Bog continued to explore her with teeth and tongue, and one hand snaked up to her breast, cupping the soft flesh before teasing her nipple with his claw, unaware that he had torn the linen shift. Marianne said nothing , not that she had noticed either. She jerked and gasped, spreading her legs wide for him, giving herself over to the rise and ebb of each orgasm Bog gave her until she thought she might fall apart into an ecstatic mess. 

She cried out, her entire body arching. “Bog...uh, Bog!” 

Marianne’s cries were enough to send him over the edge, surrounded by her flavor and her scent, her name on his lips, Bog grunted, coming in a hot flash of pleasure. 

* 

Bog lay on his back with Marianne curled against his side, her head on his chest. He smiled stroking her arm sleepily. They were both relaxed, completely comfortable in each other's arms. 

His voice was soft when he spoke, his eyes closed. “Marianne--will you be my mate?” 

Marianne smiled against his chest, wrapping her leg around one of his when she whispered. “Yes.” 

Bog grinned, brushing his lips against her hair. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Marianne snuggled closer. “I love you,” she murmured back, her eyes sliding close as sleep overtook her, knowing that she did love him, that she had simply been waiting for him all this time, waiting for the spirits of the forest to bring them together.


	6. Stand Off

At first light Roland was on his feet. He hurt, his side burned, and his face felt tight, but he wasn’t going to give that mongrel a chance to heal. He was going to go back today with a small army of people behind him. He was going to kill that monster, burn the witch’s cottage, and then he would be able to force Marianne into marriage--or he would do the same to her remaining family. 

Roland had no doubt that he would be able to rally the townsfolk and the mayor to his side against the beast. 

News of Roland’s arrival yesterday, his wounds, and the visit from Silas had made the rounds in the little village. By the time Roland arrived and was making his way to the mayor’s home, there were people out on the streets watching him. 

Roland smiled at them all, a vicious, triumphant smile. Soon he would be the hero, the one the stories told about who saved the village from the monsters and won the hand of the fairest maiden in the land. Despite the pain that he felt--only partially dulled by the poppy Silas had given him--Roland strode with his head up, his chest out. He soon arrived at the mayor’s home to find the old man, Mayor Pare, on the steps of his grand house with his daughter cowering behind him. Dressed in his finest clothes, the mayor nodded his greeting to Roland. 

“Roland, word has it that you found a monster in the woods yesterday, barely made it back with your life.” Pare kept his voice even. 

Roland grinned. He was glad he had chosen to wear his bloody clothing from yesterday and not accept the clean clothing from Sophia. The blood and tears in his clothing made him look more frightening, as well as more powerful. It was good if they were scared, if the villagers were scared then they would do what needed to be done, what Roland wanted them to do. 

“Yes Mayor I did. One of the monsters, one of the vargr curs, is in our forest. The foul half wolf, half man monstrosity! An affront to nature! I fought it off…” In a moment of inspiration Roland added. “...the creature had attacked Marianne, had tried to force itself on her, but I stopped it and saved her from being sullied by the creature. Even her own grandmother has cavorted with the monsters,” Roland snarled. “She had given them help! Protection!” He spat on the ground. 

He turned, gratified to see that he had drawn a crowd. Good, everyone hearing his story and it all coming out in front of the mayor like this would force the old man to take action. 

“I embedded my ax in the monster’s shoulder then escape. Now I need those of you brave enough to come with me to head back into the dark forest and confront the witch and find the creatures! We need to destroy the beasts before they attack us!” Roland yelled, but he was surprised when no one took up his call. 

One of the villagers, the baker, a young man with white hair named Ian, stepped forward. “If this monster tried to rape Marianne, why did you run off? Why didn’t you stay to make sure it was dead and help Mariann?” Ian looked around at everyone in the gathered crowd before he continued. “And Aura is a good woman, we all know she’s a good woman. She’s helped us when Dr. Silas could not.” 

Dr. Silas, who had joined the crowd, nodded. “Her skills with herbs far exceeds my own. I’ve always found her to be a good and kind woman.” 

“She’s a WITCH!” Roland yelled. “She deals in strange arts and has to deal with monsters!! She is as bad as the creatures that live in the foul place! Or are you a coward Ian Baker? I shouldn’t be surprised that you are...baker.” Roland filled the last word with enough venom that Ian looked as if he had been slapped. 

“Who among you will come with me? Do you want those creatures to find us? To eat your children? To come at night and rip your throats out while you sleep??” Roland moved in a slow circle while looking at the townspeople. 

He grinned when he saw three men, brothers, Richard, Randel, and Remus, triplets and cohorts of Roland’s. These were men with whom he had shared drink and hunted, men he could always count on to have his back. They stepped forward with Richard yelling, “We’re with you Roland, we don’t want some creatures slipping into our village and eating our babies.” 

Remus yelled thrusting a fist in the air. “We won’t tolerate witches living near us!! Witches like to boil babies!! She probably keeps those wolf creatures as pets!! I say we burn her!” 

Randel nodded his agreement. “BURN THE WITCH!! KILL THE WOLVES!!” 

Roland grinned while the mayor looked upset and uncomfortable. 

“WHO’S WITH US!!” Roland yelled. 

At first no one stepped forward, but after a couple of moments one of the farmers stepped forward, then one of the smiths, a tailor… 

Soon Roland had a decent crowd of men and a few women ready to come with him to burn the witch and hunt down the vargr. 

Roland grinned nastily. 

This was perfect. 

* 

The warm masculine scent of Bog’s skin filled Marianne’s nostrils when she awoke. She didn’t open her eyes, kept them closed, enjoying this moment when everything in her world was perfect and peaceful. Her grandmother wasn’t in trouble, Roland wasn’t out there, and everyone was safe and happy. This perfect moment--before she came fully awake--where she could remain wrapped around Bog, listening to his breathing and feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. With his arms wrapped around her, his legs tangled with hers, this moment was perfect. It was like they were caught together in this perfect moment where the outside world had no hold on them. 

This was their little pocket of sweetness where nothing could touch them. 

She didn’t want to break the spell. 

So she didn’t move and kept her eyes close. 

A few seconds later she had fallen back asleep. 

Bog woke a few minutes later, a smile on his sharp featured face. He had rolled onto his side and had Marianne curled against his chest, her hands curled between them, her leg nestled between his thighs. He pulled her a little closer, his nose pressed against her hair, to breathe her in. He had never been as happy as he was at this moment having his mate, his Marianne in his arms. He would do anything for her, anything at all. 

He sighed in contentment and kissed the top of her hair when he felt her stir in his arms. He could feel the change in her breathing that told him she was fully awake. 

“Did you sleep well?” Bog asked, his voice a soft, sweet growl. 

Marianne stirred, moving the bare minimum so she wouldn’t break his hold on her. “I did.” 

“Good.” He kissed her hair again and chuckled when Marianne shifted, moving herself so that she could capture his mouth in a kiss. 

Bog reached down to cup her cheek, his claws tender against her skin. He deepened the kiss, letting himself be surrounded once more by her scent, and the remembered flavor of her on his mouth sent him growling with pleasure. 

Running her hands down his neck Marianne touched the amber necklace he wore. Bog brushed his nose against hers and licked her lips before he asked softly. 

“You like it?” 

Marianne nodded. “Does it have a special meaning?” 

Bog nodded. “Only to me though--it was my father’s. My mother gave it to me after his death.” 

Bog shifted a little, reaching up with one hand to hook the necklace with a claw and pull it over his head. “My mother gave it to him the night they mated. She gave it to me to give to the woman I mated.” Bog gave her a lopsided grin. “So it’s actually yours.” 

Marianne blushed, leaning her head down to allow Bog to gently place it over her head. The stone fell down between her breasts. It was warm and she thought it felt like a piece of Bog was with her against her heart. 

“Bog…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him. Her feelings were so intense that words didn’t seem adequate. 

Instead of speaking, Marianne wrapped her arm around him, pulled him closer, and pressed her body to his long, lean form, her hand sliding down to cup his rear. She loved the way he felt, lean and dangerous. 

Their kissing took on a more demanding nature. Bog’s hand caressed her throat, his claws lightly tracing their way down over her collar to her breast. Marianne sucked in a sharp breath when Bog’s clawed fingers brushed her nipple. 

Last night he had treated her, and she wanted desperately to do the same for him. She squeezed his rear, her hand caressing his hip, and then along his stomach. She smiled as she felt the way he twitched at her touch. She slipped her hand down between them, feeling his arousal through the leather of the loincloth he wore. She cupped him, and Bog’s responding groan caused every nerve ending in her body to respond with a throbbing ache for him. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have him inside her, to lose her virginity, to lose herself in this wild, savage man that she had fallen in love with so quickly. 

She massaged him slowly, feeling how hard he was becoming at her touch as Bog’s mouth dropped to her throat, his fangs grazing her skin. His hand gently squeezed her breast, and the tip of a claw sliding against her nipple sent pulses of heat and desire through her. She shuddered, moving her hand to slide her fingers under the loincloth, her fingertips brushing across the damp head of his erection, the skin soft and hot. 

Feeling emboldened by Bog’s response to her touch, Marianne slid her hand down farther, fingers sliding along velvet soft skin, marveling at how hard his shaft felt. Bog bucked against her hand, biting gently against her throat, followed by a deep groan that rumbled in his chest. 

She wrapped her hand around him, stroking her hand against him, feeling his building excitement… 

“Good morning...you two awake in there?” 

Griselda’s voice drifted into the cave. 

Bog’s body went stiff and his head snapped up from Marianne’s throat. Marianne’s hand was still wrapped around his shaft as he cleared his throat, struggling to find his voice for a moment. 

“Ah...yes mother, we’re awake,” Bog called out while pulling the furs up around them to hide where Marianne’s hand was currently located if his mother decided to enter the cave. 

“Good, breakfast is nearly ready. We have fresh venison on the fire and some fresh fish from the river and some flat bread. Don’t be too long or it’ll all be gone,” Griselda called out. 

“All right mother, be right there,” Bog called out then slumped as the tension left his body. 

Marianne giggled softly. “Could we continue this later?” she asked hopefully, her hand gently sliding out of his loincloth to caress his stomach and chest. 

Bog smiled, rolling her onto her partly onto her back. “Yes,” he said softly, his voice husky. 

Marianne frowned, reaching up to caress his cheek. “We will have a later won’t we?” 

Bog nodded. “Yes. I swear to you, no matter what happens this day, we will have many days together.” He looked determined. “I have something worth fighting for, worth living for Marianne. I will not let that be taken from me lightly.” 

Marianne pulled him down for another deep, heart wrenching kiss before she whispered against his lips. “As do I. I won’t let Roland take you from me.” 

Bog brushed his nose against hers and whispered. “I love you, my tough human girl.” 

Marianne giggled. 

* 

When they emerged from Bog’s cave, Bog had dressed in his form-fitted pants and boots while Marianne was now dressed in clothing given to her by Griselda, leather pants much like Bog’s, although fitted to her, and her own boots. But now she wore a tight fitted leather, boned corset that would provide her with protection against the thrust of a blade. The corset had a thick leather shoulder guard held in place with several straps, one of which was around her throat like a choker. The leather completely covered her left shoulder like a shield, leaving her right shoulder bare to allow her freedom of movement with her sword arm. Over this, she wore her red cloak and around her neck hung the amber pendant, a symbol of her love of Bog and of their status as mates. 

Marianne was pleased with her look. She looked like part of the pack while also still looking like herself. 

The smell of cooking venison made her stomach rumble. Bog grinned at her showing off his fangs which somehow made his smile even more endearing. 

“Let’s go get you fed,” he murmured softly, taking her hand and leading her to the main fire in the middle of the vargr home where everyone was gathered, talking and eating together as one large family. 

When Bog and Marianne arrived for breakfast everyone called out greetings, a combination of speech and barks, along with a few howls that Marianne didn’t need to have interpreted as she blushed brightly. 

Griselda hugged her son then turned and hugged Marianne, her eyes immediately catching the glint of amber around the young woman’s throat. “Good morning my children,” Griselda said affectionately. 

Marianne hugged the older woman back tightly. “Good morning!” 

(Marianne didn’t notice the way Griselda sniffed the air around Marianne, a pleased look in her amber eyes, between the scent she picked up and the pendant around the young human woman’s throat, she was sure she would have grandcubs before long.) 

Bog had just started to slice off some of the roasted venison that had been roasting over the main fire for the two of them when Marianne was hit in the side, nearly knocking her off her feet. 

She looked down to see Kenia hugging her hips. 

Kenia grinned up at her, his little face bright. “Morning!” she barked. 

Marianne laughed, hugging the little wolf girl back. “How are you this morning Kenia?” 

Kenia let go of her and frowned slightly. “Well, it started bad. When my Mummy laid me down for sleep, I cried for Wolfgrim, but then my Mummy told me the story of the great moon wolf that guides the dead to the beautiful autumn wood where the hunting is always good and there are a lot of other wolves and vargr to play with.” Kenia grinned. “She told me that Wolfgrim is happy there and that he’ll be waiting for me with the great moon wolf, coming for me someday long from now.” Kenia sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before she said softly, “I’m glad he’s happy. He was the best friend I ever had.” 

Marianne laid her hand alongside Kenia’s cheek. “I’m sorry Kenia, but I’m glad Wolfgrim is happy. I wish I could have met him.” 

Kenia nodded solemnly. “He would have liked you and you would have liked him.” 

“I’m sure I would have,” Marianne agreed softly. 

Kenia grinned at Marianne, but then her expression turned sour. “Mummy and Daddy said I can’t come with you to beat up that nasty woodsman. They say I have to stay here and protect my brother.” Kenia frowned. “I want to go, I want to see Bog bite and claw that mean woodsman, but…” She glanced over at her parents. Her mother was nursing her baby brother while her father fed her mother. 

Kenia smiled. “Mummy and Ruud need me.” She turned back to Marianne. “But my Daddy is going with you and he said he would tell me everything when he gets home.” She smiled brightly at that before she hugged Marianne one more time. “I’m going to go say good morning to Bog and then I have to go eat.” 

Marianne laughed softly. “All right, I’ll see you when we get back.” 

Kenia grinned and waved before rushing over to Bog, slamming into the tall vargr’s knees, nearly causing him to drop the wooden plates he held with their food on them. Marianne watched while Bog spoke to the little wolf girl. Whatever he said caused her to yank on his pants leg until he bent over and received a lick on his cheek before she ran off again. 

Bog was chuckling as he came over and handed Marianne a plate. “After we’re done eating we’ll be leaving. Brutus, Farrar, Luana, Ember, and Delco will be coming with us.” Bog pointed out the vargr he had mentioned. Luana was a short, but stocky female with nearly white hair, Ember was another woman, but with dark hair that shone red in the light, and Delco, a young vargr with bright orange eyes. They were all wearing leather pants similar to Bog’s, though without the boots. The two women both wore leather armor corsets similar to Marianne’s. Clearly when the vargr went to battle, they saw armor as just as important as a human warrior did. 

Bog smiled at her. “They are all good people and all owe Aura a debt--we all do, in truth. Aura helped Luana give birth to her twins, she saved Delco’s arm, she helped Brutus’s mate when she was with fever and she cured Ember’s infertility. Everyone here owes your grandmother a debt, both large and small.” Bog smiled. “She’s saved us all.” 

Marianne looked in wonder at the vargr as she ate her breakfast and the secret her grandmother had kept. She was grateful to them all for coming to her grandmother’s defense. 

“We should eat quickly, Brutus is anxious to g,.” Bog said while stuffing a large bite of venison into his mouth. 

Marianne smiled and did the same. 

* 

By late morning Roland had his mob. 

Most of them were only armed with farming tools, a few butcher knives and some hammers, but it was enough. Once they arrived at the witch’s home, Roland would finish killing the wounded vargr if it was still there, then drag the witch out so that she could watch her home burn, and then he would burn her. 

Roland smiled broadly and turned to face the crowd he had gathered. He had returned home and changed. Now dressed in a white tunic, he wore leather pauldrons on each shoulder and vambraces. He wore leather boots and carried his father’s ax on his hip. Roland had carefully groomed his hair and while he could do nothing about the wounds on his face, he made sure every inch of him looked like the righteous knight he saw himself as. It was uncomfortable, his broken ribs screaming in protest, but it was worth the pain because he now resembled the righteous knight from the fairy stories, the knight he knew he should have been instead of a woodsman. 

“Are we ready to kill the beast and destroy the witch??” He yelled out at the crowd. 

The triplets responded with cheers, and while the rest of the crowd weren’t as enthusiastic as Roland wanted, they were still coming along. 

He smiled viciously. “Come on then!” 

* 

Marianne held on tight as Bog and the others ran through the woods. This time Bog was able to go all out, letting himself run with his full ability and it was staggering. Marianne held on tightly while trying not to choke him. Even with her weight on his back, Bog was the fastest of the vargr; his lean body and slick muscles had him leading the pack through the woods. 

Marianne tried to keep her eyes open, but the wood was zipping by at such a speed that it was making her dizzy and slightly nauseated. Instead, she pressed her face against Bog’s shoulder, letting his scent envelop her. 

She could tell his shoulder was still bothering him and while he moved it better than she thought would be possible after a wound like he had received in only the few hours that had passed since he was hurt, he still hissed and adjusted his hold on her while he ran. He may indeed heal faster than a human, and her grandmother’s skills may have helped, but he was still wounded. She worried what facing Roland again would do to him. 

She pressed her face to his good shoulder and tried not to think too much about the coming conflict. 

When they arrived at her grandmother's house, it felt as if only seconds had gone by instead of minutes. 

“We’re here.” Bog’s voice was a low rumble that she felt through her entire body. She looked up to see the gate leading to her grandmother’s house. Bog eased Marianne gently to her feet. She smiled at the others before reaching for the gate and opened it, leading the small pack of vargr inside. 

* 

Roland rode his horse at the head of his mob, on their way toward the witch’s house. Riding the horse aggravated his wounds more, but it was worth the pain for the image of power he was projecting. The triplet’s had taken up a song, singing as they walked alongside his horse. 

“There were two sisters side by side 

Sing aye dumb, sing aye day 

There were two sisters side by side 

The boys are born for me 

There were two sisters side by side 

The eldest for young johnny cried 

I'll be true for my love 

If he'll be true to me 

Johnny bought the youngest a gay gold ring, 

He never bought the eldest a single thing 

Johnny bought the youngest a beaver hat, 

The eldest never thought much of that 

As they were walking by the foamy brim, 

The eldest pushed the youngest in 

Sister, oh sister give me thy hand, 

And you can have johnny and all his land 

Sister i won't give you my hand, 

And i'll have johnny and all his land 

* 

Roland grinned. He enjoyed this song, a murder ballad about one sister drowning the other over a man. He had loved this song as a child, always hoping that someday that would happen to him, two sisters fighting over him, one murdering the other… 

* 

“So there she sank and away she swam, 

Until she came to the miller's dam 

Miller took away her gay gold ring, 

And then he pushed her in again 

Miller he was hanged on the mountain head, 

The eldest sister was boiled in lead” 

* 

Roland noticed that no one else was singing along with the brothers, the rest of his mob moving along in silence. He glanced over his shoulder at them. They were following behind him and the brothers, but there was no joy in their faces, no lust for revenge, no shine of murder in their eyes. He frowned, but then quickly dismissed any misgivings he had. They would follow him and they would do his bidding, he had no doubt because they were simple people who could be shown monsters in the shadows, even if the monsters weren’t truly there. Then again, he thought, any enemy of mine is a monster. 

* 

Aura gasped loudly when she saw the amber pendant around Marianne’s throat. The vargr were all in her home, taking up nearly every available space. Marianne had to try not to laugh, they all looked so uncomfortable in the small space, holding little cups of tea her grandmother had made along with little lemon cakes in their strong, clawed hands. 

Aura looked between Bog and Marianne, tears in her eyes. “Oh, you have no idea how happy this makes me.” 

Bog blushed with a sideways glance at Marianne, a hint of fang showing as he gave her a lopsided grin. 

Marianne winked at him, and smiled at her grandmother. “We’re happy too.” 

Bog nodded with a whisper. “She is my moon.” 

Marianne turned to gaze at Bog, reaching out for his clawed hands. 

Aura smiled with a soft sigh. “Oh, it reminds me of when I married your grandfather.” 

Marianne blushed, but as much as she simply wanted to talk about being in love with Bog, they knew there was harsh business ahead. “Have you heard anything from Roland?” 

Aura nodded. “A handful of pixies were by here only moments ago. They saw a large crowd of humans in the wood led by Roland.” Aura looked around at each of the vargr. The old woman looked slightly pale, her features set in a deep, grim line as she murmured. “Far more humans than vargr.” 

Brutus snorted, his voice a deep growl. “One vargr is worth five humans in a fight.” 

“That might be, but they’ve got weapons…” Aura shook her head before rubbing her face with her hands. “Maybe I should have just left...disappeared into the woods. It might have been safer for everyone.” 

“No! You can’t mean that Grammie.” Marianne threw her arms around her grandmother who returned her hug. 

Bog shook his head glancing at his fellow vargr. “Aura, we need you, and they need you.”He pointed out toward the forests and villages beyond Aura’s home. “You are a vital person Aura, a loved person. We will not let you be hurt.” 

Aura smiled separating from her granddaughter to reach up and cup Bog’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

Bog smiled bowing his head. 

That was when there came a flash of bright, sparkling lemon yellow light, zipping under the partly open window. The light zipped past the vargr as if the large wolf people weren't even there and fluttered to a stop in front of Aura. Marianne saw the light fade into a small flower fairy. It was speaking quickly, the sound to everyone in the room was like tiny bells, but Aura seemed to understand. 

Aura’s eyes widened, then she hissed, looking past the fairy to the vargr and her granddaughter. 

“He’s here.” 

* 

“COME OUT WITCH!!” Roland yelled at the gate just before he motioned with his head and two of the triplets pulled the gate clear off its hinges and tossed it aside. Roland grinned and brought his horse through, heading toward the house. He watched with satisfaction as fairies zipped away from the witch's overgrown garden. He pulled his ax free, as he walked his horse through, his eyes narrowed and watched the little fey flee. One came too close to him and Roland swung his ax deftly with one hand. The keen edge of the blade sliced the poor fairy that had been too close in two, both halves of it’s tiny body falling into the garden. 

Roland chuckled, not hearing the soft gasps of shock from the crowd that followed him. 

He brought the house to a stop just outside the house,with his mob standing silent behind him. 

Roland slid off his horse, his smile cold as he yelled again. “COME OUT WITCH!” 

While Roland was yelling, the three brothers lit torches that they carried; Roland paid no heed to the remainder of the crowd, who stood by. 

The door to the cottage creaked ope and, Roland watched, only going a little pale when several vargr filed out of the cottage, his eyes widening and narrowing in hate when he saw Bog, the tallest of the beasts step out. Next came Marianne. To the blond woodsman’s surprise, she was dressed like one of them. His stomach roiled at the sight of her wearing clothing like the monsters, though she still wore her red cloak. Lastly came the witch. 

Roland felt a ripple of fear in his gu,t but he quickly realized there were only six vargr, and he many more people with him. He was going to win. 

He smiled nastily. 

Aura stood in the middle, the vargr and her granddaughter on either side of her The vargr were all growling, the sound grating on Roland and doing nothing to lessen the fear that still coiled in his bowels. 

“What do you want Roland?” the old witch asked, her voice strong and firm, not a quiver of fear in her tone. 

Roland narrowed his eyes looking at the monsters with disgust. “We’re here to kill the creatures and the witch who protects them, aren't we?!” He turned to address his mob only to see that no one was cheering, no one was agreeing with him...nothing. The only ones showing any enthusiasm were the triplets. 

He frowned. “What is wrong with you??!” he shouted at the crowd. 

One of the farmers stepped forward, a man named Grady who was carrying a scythe. He nodded his head to Aura reaching up to grab the tip of his straw hat. “Afternoon Aura.” 

“Afternoon Grady. How is your wife doing?” Aura asked with a smile. 

Marianne frowed, looking sideways at Bog who glanced at her, clearly as confused as her. 

“She’s doing fine, thank you.” Grady turned to look at the crowd, then at Roland. “Aura saved my wife when she came down with a fever this last winter. If it weren’t for her and for the vargr she sent to help me with my harvest, I would have lost everything.” Grady walked up to stand next to Brutus. “She’s a witch, but she’s a good one. And the vargr have been nothing but good to my family. They help me. I pay them with a few sheep.” He shrugged. “Fair trade for fair work.” 

Brutus grinned down at Grady who smiled back. “Wife is waiting for you and your youngun’s to come over for dinner soon.” 

Brutus’s voice was a low rumble. “We’ll come tomorrow then.” 

“Good.” Grady smiled balancing his scythe on his shoulder. 

One of the village women stepped forward, a pretty brunette, her face covered in a sprinkle of freckles. Her name was Agnes and she had a small hammer with her. She hurried past Roland, her cotton skirts rustling loudly, to stand next to Lunana and Ember. 

“My lover is a vargr. They are good people,” she announced glaring at Roland. “I won’t let you hurt them.” 

As Roland looked on in shock, the mob he had brought with him turned, all walking past him to stand with Aura and the monsters. Each one said something positive about the witch, or the vargr, or both. 

The sense of betrayal that Roland felt made his stomach burn. These people had followed him not to destroy the witch or the wolves--rather, they had come to humiliate him!! 

He snarled and the wooden handle of his ax groaned as he gripped it with white knuckles. 

“What is wrong with all of you??!!” He motioned at the crowd that had shifted sides. “Siding with witches and monsters??! Have your senses left you??! These things will destroy us all!!” 

Marianne stepped forward, her red cloak bright in the afternoon light. “You’re the monster Roland.” Her gaze took in the triplets behind him. “You and those like you who only hate. You are the true monsters.” 

Roland stared at her, his rage and humiliation bubbling to the surface. Marianne was the most beautiful woman, his heart's desire, but she was corrupted, he knew it now. He stared at her, horror slowly transforming his face. 

“You’ve fucked him haven’t you?” he hissed at Marianne, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’ve lain with that dog! That mongrel!! You gave yourself to a monster!!” His voice rose with each syllable, his temper rising with it. 

Marianne stared at him, horrified by the vile vitriol coming from his mouth. 

Roland let out a scream of rage, his ax raised, and Maianne’s eyes widened in shock. As Roland moved toward her, Bog moved faster than Marianne could see, between one heart beat and the next, he was between her and Roland. Bog grabbed Roland’s arm that held the ax, wrapping his hand around the other man’s wrist, at the same time grabbing Roland’s other arm. His large, clawed hands tight around the other man’s wrists, Bog forced Roland back. The two men stumbled, Roland fighting against Bog while the tall vargr held him tightly, growling loudly, his fang elongated as he fought with the other man. 

Roland’s horse let out a startled whinny, dancing out of the way as did the triplets, who quickly cowered while the two men struggled. The other vargr growled, but didn’t move. Marianne started to go after them, but her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

Marianne stood by her grandmother, tense as she watched the man she loved fight against the monster. 

The two men struggled, Roland’s blind rage giving him strength he would not usually have had while Bog held him firmly. Bog’s teeth were bared, his fangs long and deadly as he snarled, his unnaturally blue eyes glowing with rage as he shoved Roland back. He reached out and plucked the ax from the unsuspecting blonde man’s hand, threw the ax down and launched himself at Roland with a snarl, slamming into his chest. 

The two men went down, both of them grappling with each other. They rolled around for a few tense seconds, each one fighting for dominance. Bog’s growls and snarls could be heard over Roland’s hisses and grunts. 

Bog got Roland onto his back, but Roland was at an angle that allowed the smaller man to slam his balled fists into Bog’s wounded shoulder, trying to break the taller man’s hold on him. Bog made a gurgling snarl of pain when Roland’s fists slammed down on his wounded shoulder. The pain made him sick and dizzy as it radiated through him. Roland sneered, realizing he had hurt Bog and slammed his fists again into the wound. 

Bog howled and lifted up on his knees, pulling Roland with him before he slammed the other man back down to the dirt with an impact Marianne would swear she felt in the soles of her feet. Roland gasped for breath as Bog’s slamming of him to the ground dazed him and knocked the air from his lungs. Bog picked Roland up and slammed him down again as Roland gasped for breath. Bog held his opponent down and slammed a fist into the blond man’s face. It was clear to Marianne he was trying to subdue Roland rather than kill him. He could easily have slashed out Roland’s throat, but he refrained from delivering a killing blow. Bog only punched him then tried to hold Roland down. 

Bog reared up again to slug the still struggling Roland when Roland suddenly punched Bog across the face, the blow came with a surprising amount of strength, though Bog knew it shouldn’t be a surprise. The man was a woodsman and a killer. 

Bog hit Roland again in an attempt to stop him from moving, this time his fist connecting with Roland’s face and clearly broke the blond man’s nose, but Roland was beyond feeling any pain; his rage and disgust were too great. Roland brought his fist up and into Bog’s face, bloodying his nose and lips, striking with enough force that Bog’s head snapped back. 

Bog snarled, blood dripping from his teeth and lips as he struggled to grab Roland’s hands again, tried to pin the man to the ground, but while Bog had the greater strength, Roland was fueled by his rage and hate. 

Roland managed to pull his legs up, planted his feet against Bog’s chest and pushed, knocking Bog off of him. Bog fell back, dropping into a crouch on his hands and feet, his claws digging into the ground as he snarled at Roland, blood staining his lips and teeth, dripping from his nose and chin. 

“You monster!!! You destroyed her! You took her from me!!” Roland shrieked at Bog who was growling loudly now. The vargr’s teeth flashed as Roland wailed, “She filth now, like you...like all of you!!” Roland screamed, turning to take in all the vargr and the people who stood with them before he let out a roar. 

Roland made a dive for his ax. 

Bog launched himself at the other man in an attempt to stop him. 

Marianne watched the fight with her hand on her sword as Bog plowed Roland into the ground, straddling the other man. Bog snarled, his teeth long and deadly, his blue eyes glowing as he used his fists (Marianne noticed he didn’t use his claws which would have instantly killed Roland), hitting Roland's face, knocking his head one way then the other, a quick back and forth, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, blood flying, but just when Marianne thought Bog might kill Roland despite his efforts not to, Bog stood up and staggered back from Roland. 

Bog was breathing heavily, blood covering his fists and face as he stumbled away from the prone Roland whose swollen face was covered in blood. 

“No...no I won’t kill you…” Bog hissed through bloody lips and long fangs. “None of my clan has ever killed a human...I won’t be the one to start it now.” Bog snarled low and threatening. “Just take your friends…” He glanced at the triplets who shrank away from him. “...leave, and never return to these woods.” Bog voice was low and deep, but the snarl vibrated through everyone when he spoke. 

Bog stood there, breathing hard for a few seconds more, his wide shoulders heaving as he brought himself under control while glaring down at Roland. 

Roland looked up at him, the hate burning in Roland’s eyes before Bog turned back around to face Marianne and the others, all eyes on him. 

Bog was shaking, blood dripping from his nose, his lips bloody as he looked to Marianne, his blue eyes filled with fear, pain, and sorrow. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Marianne smiled at him, taking a step toward him, her arms out to him. “Oh Bog, you don’t…” 

But just as she was about to embrace him, Marianne saw Roland rise up behind Bog. he had grabbed his ax… 

“NO!!” Marianne screamed, starting to pull her sword just as Roland brought his ax down into the middle of Bog’s back. Bog let out a strangled cry of pain. He stumbled forward into Marianne who caught him, easing him to the ground before Roland could strike him again. 

The vargr had started to move, but Aura stopped them. This was now her granddaughter’s fight. (When she was sure the vargr wouldn’t interfere she rushed over to Bog, dropping down beside him.) 

Roland sneered at Marianne, holding his bloody ax. “You would take that creature over me?” 

Marianne stalked toward Roland, her hand on the hilt of her sword. 

“He is more of a man than you Roland. He has more soul, more love, and is far braver than you’ve ever been,” Marianne said, her voice soft, but her words carried clearly through her grandmother’s garden. “You don’t deserve to call yourself a man.” 

Roland was walking backwards from her, his eyes darting everywhere as he looked for help or escape. 

“You bitch, you...you cunt!” He hissed while adjusting his hold in his ax. “You laid with a beast and now you are like them…” 

He moved, letting out a yell, his ax raised over his head, but Marianne was faster. She drew her sword swiftly, the blade slashing through the air in front of her. Her blade cut through Roland’s face, slashing through an eye. Droplets of red blood glistened in the air like rubies. 

Roland dropped his ax with a bloodcurdling scream of agony. 

* 

One week later. 

Marianne, wearing only a pair of leather breeches, a cotton tunic, and her red cloak fluttering behind her, moved as quickly as she could through the forest, the amber pendant around her neck thumping between her breast as she ran. She was running barefoot, which was slowing her down, but she was still managing to keep her distance from her pursuer. She glanced up at the full moon that was providing her light by which to see her way and smiled, ducking under some tree branches and heading toward the stream where she planned to run for a little while hoping the water would mask her scent for at least a little while. 

The last week had been strange and a little chaotic. 

Roland had been banished, now blind in one eye and his face horribly scarred. The mayor had ordered him taken to the edge of the village, and the woodsman was told never to return. The vargr still lived in the woods, but now that it had come to light that nearly everyone had secretly had some dealing with the vargr, (everyone had been keeping those dealings secret because they feared what the other villagers would do, but now that everyone’s secrets were out, the two groups were far more intertwined than anyone would have guessed. Marianne was sure that this spring there might even be some half vargr babies in the village.) Her grandmother was now like the central meeting hub between the two people, the vargr pack and the villagers. 

Marianne smiled. Everything was working out for the best, for both people. 

She gasped when her bare feet hit the water. It was colder than she had thought it would be and the damn rocks were slick. She moved carefully, trying not to make too much of a splash. She stopped only once to listen, but as she cocked her head, she couldn’t pick up the sound of the hunter. 

That made her more nervous than if she had heard him. 

She turned, hurrying down the stream a few more steps before climbing back onto the land and heading in the deeper parts of the forest. She was heading to a meadow she knew about that contained dark blue flowers that only bloomed on the night of a full moon. Their scent was sweet and heavy; the flowers should mask her scent if she could get to them before her pursuer found her. Her heavy breathing filled her ears, masking any other sounds as Marianne moved through the dark forest, her eyes on her goal. Just ahead she could see the meadow, the moonflowers open to soak up the moon’s rays. 

She had just hit the edge of the garden when she was struck from behind, a long arm wrapped around her, a large, clawed hand grabbed the top of her head, tucking her close as suddenly she was rolling through the meadow. She let out a startled squeak. 

They hit the meadow, rolling together for a moment until they finally stopped, but she was flipped over onto her back, almost knocking the air out of her lungs, her arms held by the wrists and yanked over her head as the heavy weight of a body pressed down on her. 

Marianne looked up into a pair of glowing blue eyes and long pointed fangs. 

“You know, this really isn’t fair.” Marianne giggled wriggling a little to try to break Bog’s hold, but while he didn’t hold her tightly, his vast strength made it so that she could do little to break free unless he let her. 

Bog was panting, giving her a lopsided grin. He wore nothing but a loincloth, the moon’s light dancing over his dark hair and skin causing Marianne to feel a hot quickening in her groin. “Who says life is fair?” He growled happily. “You are my prey, and I always hunt down my prey.” 

Marianne licked her lips, her eyes dancing. Bog had suffered a horrible wound, but between her grandmother and his vargr healing, he was doing much better now. They hadn’t been intimate during this entire week, but now... 

This was their first night alone in a week. Marianne had teased Bog about whether he was up to his old hunting abilities, which had led to this chase. 

Bog grinned down at her and growled sensually. “I win.” 

Marianne grinned, licking her lips. “So what are you going to do now?” 

Bog continued to grin as he leaned down close to her. He was doing that strange almost growling purr he did as he leaned close, sniffing at her hair and throat just before he dragged his tongue along her neck. 

He had loosened his hold on her arms, though not enough to allow her to break free. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as Bog dragged his tongue along her skin until he reached her tunic. Only then did he sit back and release her arms. Bog only released his hold on her wrists so he could grab the collar of her tunic and with barely a flex of his muscles, he tore the tunic straight down the middle. 

Marianne gasped as her bare breasts were exposed to the night air. Bog grinned at her, the moon’s light glinting off his fangs. He leaned down to rub his nose against her silky soft skin, his lips and tongue slowly tasting the salt on her skin. She groaned softly, heat in her blood chasing away the night chill as Bog’s tongue slowly licked at her breasts, dragging his tongue slowly over her nipple. He teased her nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking back and forth before he switched breasts. Each flick of his tongue sent shivers of pleasure through her, heat racing through her blood to pool in her groin where she could feel the beat of her heart drumming in time to the flicks of her vargr mate’s tongue. 

Growling, Bog focused his attention on Marianne’s breasts. He gave himself over to the scent of her skin, the sound of her heartbeat, mixed with the breathless moans she made as he sucked on her nipples. He could smell her excitement, which only fueled his own. His groin ached for her, he wanted to be buried inside her, the two of them at last sharing themselves completely. Marianne was his mate, his heart, his love...his very life. 

Sliding his tongue down her body, Bog finally scooted down enough that he could grab her pants, and like her tunic, he made short work of the clothing, ripping the weak fabric from her body. Bog moved off of her to crouch and let her finish disentangling herself from the remains of her clothing until she was completely naked, except for his pendant around her throat, while she lay on a pool of red, her cloak spread out under her. He could only stare at her as the moon’s light danced slowly over her skin. Marianne was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her skin was like milk, smooth and soft, and the moon’s light made her glow. 

Blushing Marianne smiled. “Aren’t you wearing too many clothes now?” 

Bog seemed to have forgotten about anything except gazing at her, only now seeming to become aware of how tight the loincloth he wore was, how his erection throbbed with need. 

Marianne watched, mesmerized as he stood, (his full height would always take her breath away), and began to remove the cloth around his hips, his long clawed fingers moving with deft grace. 

She sucked in her breath at the sight of him, naked, and fully erect. He was more beautiful than she could have imagined anyone being. 

Bog slowly dropped down to his knees in front of her. “I love you,” he whispered. “You are my heart, my moon, my sun.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with his claws. “You are my everything...my mate.” 

Marianne leaned into his touch. “I love you Bog. I never realized a part of me was missing until I found you.” She kissed the inside of his palm and whispered against his skin. “My mate.” 

Bog gently laid Marianne back, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that bloomed like a flower through her entire body. She ran her hands down his sides, feeling the play of muscle under his skin. Bog cradled the sides of her head between his clawed hands, kissing her with such tenderness that the gesture brought tears to her eyes. She rubbed her legs against him, overwhelmed with the scent of his skin, the taste of his tongue. She loved him with everything that she was and ever would be. 

Kissing her enflamed the fire in the pit of Bog’s stomach. Being with her felt perfect, felt right in a way he had no words for. He could feel the heat of her calling to him and he growled softly in response, a deep rumble in his chest that spread through his body. 

He pulled back from her mouth to look down at her, his blue eyes glowing in the moon’s light. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to …” 

But Marianne cut him off with a kiss and a smile. “Bog, I want you, I want to feel you inside me. I want us to be one, to share ourselves.” She gave him a mischievous little grin that made his heart sing. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to chase me if I didn’t want to make love Bog.” 

Bog chuckled, kissing her again, a deep passionate kiss, his fingers sliding into her short, brown hair. 

Marianne’s hands slid along his sides, reaching down to caress his rear with a smile, enjoying the feel of his body until Bog lifted up, slipping his hand down between them. She stiffened a little in anticipation as he rubbed his erection against her, coating himself with the warm fluids of her body. Moaning in response Marianne spread her legs a little more for him. When Bog began to ease himself into her, she hissed and grabbed hold of his shoulders. 

Bog stopped. “Marianne??” 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Bog,” Marianne whispered 

Bog trembled with the tension of holding himself in check, not giving in to his animal desires, as well as the intense pleasure of gently pushing into her, sliding past her natural barriers, feeling the body of the woman he loved wrap around him and hold him. He pushed into her slowly, easing himself inside her, letting them both adjust to the feeling of their bodies coming together until the moment he was fully inside her. 

Bog groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. 

The feeling of Bog opening her was both a combination of pleasure and only a little pain...she thought pain was the wrong description. The feeling was just, slightly strange, but, as she kept herself relaxed, the pleasure began to build until, when he was fully buried inside her, their mixed moans became one as they kissed. Marianne had never felt anything more right than having Bog inside her, part of her. 

He moved slowly at first, his thrusts gentle, rocking Marianne’s body in waves. She moaned, wrapping her legs around the back of Bog’s legs, holding on as waves of pleasure rolled over her. 

She caressed his throat and shoulders, moaning with each thrust until her body was screaming at her to respond. She thrust her pelvis up to meet Bog's, causing him to shudder. Their shared movements intensified the pleasure between them. 

Marianne grasped Bog’s shoulders, kissing him deeply while she thrust back in time with him and soon their bodies fell into a natural rhythm. 

Bog growled, struggling to hold himself in check, struggling not to climax. Marianne felt so right, so wet, so tight, and so perfect. He shuddered, growling again, fighting against his own orgasm. 

Bog’s growl, the surge in his body as he struggled, she knew he was about to climax. The intense pressure she felt as he swelled inside her sent Marianne careening over an edge she hadn’t been aware she was on, and an orgasm slammed down on her with an intensity she wasn’t ready for, she gasped and cried out, her voice echoing through the forest. 

Bog’s growl turned into a moan. He tensed, struggling for a few more seconds. Unable to stop himself, he thrust a little harder… 

Marianne gasped, thrusting her hips up as another orgasm following so closely on her first that she was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears sprang to her eyes. She came hard and fast. Bog thrust into her, giving in to his desires, his animal needs. His thrusts were hard and quick until he stiffened, his back arching. 

Bog cried out with a growling moan of pleasure. 

She felt the moment he came, felt the sudden swelling and burst of slickness. Marianne wrapped herself around Bog, holding him tight as together they let their shared orgasm carry them away into the night. 

Now, they were truly mated for life.


End file.
